Music Of The Night
by PhantomSpannah
Summary: Set in the 7th Year: Hermione is researching a new potion to help the Order Snape gives her detentions they bond over the new potion and a favourite film. Characters are as canon as possible M for later chapters.
1. Think Of Me

**Reposting this chapter AGAIN – a few problems which are now fixed for those fans wanting the more canon details.**

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It was a clear bright day in April, as the trio sloped down the stone staircase and gloomily entered the potions dungeon. The day may have been mild, even warm, but as soon as they entered their classroom, the temperature seemed to drop to below zero. There was always a chill in the air down there.

Harry, Ron and Hermione took their places near the back, and got out their books. Knowing they were a little early (better to be on time than in detention as Ron always said); the class soon fell into easy conversation. Harry was eager to discuss his new Quidditch training methods with his red-haired companion, whilst Hermione turned to Neville, whispering her usual comforting mantra to ease him through the upcoming potions lesson. Nobody heard the footsteps or the swish of his cloak, but when the door slammed, the chattering classroom fell immediately into a hushed silence.

"Shut your mouths, close your books, and face the front." The ominous whisper cut through the quiet room like an icicle. The professor rarely needed to raise his voice – his mere presence commanded instant and complete attention. At least it usually did; Hermione was still muttering quietly to herself.

"Miss Granger," his voice silky smooth, but undeniably dangerous, "Perhaps you might like to explain to the class why you are still talking?"

She looked up, flushed, "Sir, I was just trying to remember which ingredient I'd forgotten – you see, I've been working on a potion in my spare time – and I think it's almost right now – I just can't remember- it's really quite complex-"

She didn't get time to finish her garbled explanation, as Snape's voice cut across her like a scythe.

"_Silence_," he hissed – the menace now evident, "What you choose to do in your own time, is your business, but right now you are in my class-"

Harry's heart leapt in his throat as he heard Hermione interrupt Snape. Nobody did that. Nobody who wanted to see the end of their last year at Hogwarts with all their limbs and faculties intact!

"But Sir," Snape was so taken aback that he was rendered speechless – Hermione continued, "I've nearly finished my research, and I think this potion would be really useful to the-"

"MISS GRANGER! BE _QUIET_!" Snape's voice had evidently returned in full force, "DO NOT mention that name, DO NOT interrupt my classes, and DO NOT talk back at me!" Hermione shut her mouth immediately. She had been about to say "the Order", but given the unknown loyalties of her classmates (she glanced at Malfoy) it could have been a heinous error. For all she knew, the Slytherins could be on orders to report back any suspicious behaviour of Harry and his comrades to their parents, most of whom she knew to be Death Eaters. So, biting her tongue, she waited in trepidation for the Potion Master's final word.

Snape seemed to have calmed down a little in the intervening moment, however when he did speak, his voice had lowered again to the usual cold sneer, "Detention, every night this week." Sentencing done, he swished his cloak round and strode to the front of the class. As he went, he flicked his wand at the windows, dropping the blinds down, and plunging the room into near-darkness.

In the sudden darkness, the room was even quieter - if that were possible. Snape intended to use this as a scare-technique; show them all who was in charge. Silently he crept over to where Hermione sat on the end of a row, and knelt next to her. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered delicately;

"Behave, and I might even take a look at this potion later."

And with a flourish he was gone, the candle flamed into life, and the blackboard was illuminated; their instructions for the lesson glowing eerily in its black depths.

Class seemed to have resumed as normal; Snape briefly explained the potion they were making – some kind of complex sleeping draught – and began his usual tour of the classroom. Ron was muttering the ingredients and biting his lip as he patiently stirred his cauldron; Harry casting a charm on his glasses to stop them fogging up with the fumes; Neville was in his usual panic – his concoction already three shades darker than everyone else's.

Hermione, for once, was still. She absently stirred her potion with one hand, occasionally throwing in assorted liquids and roots with the other. But for once her mind was not completely on the task before her. The others assumed she was thinking about her own private potion, and regretting her earlier outburst. But she had momentarily forgotten both of these things; she was thinking about Snape.

Her mind was in a whirl – one minute he was her potions teacher – and the next... she shuddered. Something inside her had changed in those past ten minutes. Those burning eyes staring at her, that icy voice with a hint of growl behind it, that masterful command of his subjects... Oh god, was Professor Snape suddenly... sexy? She hated the thought at once – the word just seemed so wrong: he wasn't some playboy, or handsome celebrity – he was her teacher! The word sounded wrong for other reasons as well: it just didn't suit him. How could you sum up that dark, mysterious, and often severe man in one word? It seemed wrong just to label him – he was so much more than that; he was masterful, witty, cruel... and so many other things she had yet to discover.

She shivered; an illicit image had just flitted through her mind at the thought of 'discovering him'. She imagined shirt buttons; pushing him against a potions bench; his hands, and his voice in her ear... She shuddered deliciously, as she remembered that voice in her ear. What did he mean 'behave'? Did he want to discuss her potion? She was glad that nobody could read her mind – the word 'behave' had just conjured an assortment of heated images to flood her brain.

But she was wrong. Someone could read her mind.

The potions master had been watching Hermione closely; there was most definitely something on her mind that day. He was quite used to his top-student meeting every new potion as a challenge, and always coming out trumps. However, there was certainly something amiss that afternoon: Hermione idly stirred her brew, throwing in ingredients at odd intervals, taking no notice of the frothing cauldron. If she wasn't careful, her potion would soon overflow, or worse.

Frowning, Snape took a few moments to ponder this, before deciding on a brief spot of Legilimency. Not strictly an above board action, but Snape weighed out the consequences carefully, and his insatiable Slytherin curiosity won out. Besides, he reasoned, if he was gentle in his probing, there was no reason for Miss Granger to find out what he was doing.

Leaning back against his desk, Snape took a deep breath, before summoning his concentration. He found the connection surprisingly easy to make; Hermione was evidently deep in thought, as her mental barriers were lower than normal. Pressing through the defences, Snape quickly located Hermione's conscious thoughts.

He almost gasped out loud; once again taken aback by the fiery witch in his midst. It was not often that Severus Snape was shocked, but twice today already, Miss Granger had thrown him for a loop. He had caught an image in her head: one that shocked him, but one that excited him too.

_He saw himself, in the potions lab. It was empty, apart from himself, and Hermione Granger. The candle burned low, and the flickering shadows bounced off the walls as the scene before him played out. _

_He was pushed back against a potions bench, his legs splayed slightly out to the side, to allow her to stand between them, pressing herself to him. His shirt was slightly open, baring his pale chest, criss-crossed with scars, glinting in the pale light. She was bent over him, her mouth travelling slowly down his chest, as her fingers undid his buttons, one by one..._

_Her mouth left his chest damp, the skin glinting in the glow, as she moved her mouth further south..._

_She passed his navel, and down, following the trail of dark hair..._

_Down..._

"Professor?" He snapped out of his reverie almost at once, and turning round, found himself facing a concerned Draco.

"_What_?!" he snapped. How long had he been standing there? He was irritated to be interrupted; embarrassed by what had taken place – yet he was also very intrigued.

"I thought you ought to know - Longbottom seems to be in a spot of bother." Draco sneered, looking nonplussed by Snape's apparent trance.

Snape felt relief wash over him, as he tried to conceal his hatred for the blonde Slytherin – so he didn't notice anything amiss then?

Turning on his heel, Snape pointed his wand vaguely in the direction of Neville and scathingly muttered, "_A__guamenti_". The blue fire that had begun to spread from Neville's cauldron and up his robes was instantly doused with a forceful jet of water from Snape's wand. Catastrophe averted, the professor took twenty points from Gryffindor and reassumed stalking round the classroom.

He avoided Hermione's occasional glances, and tried to keep his mind off what he had witnessed only a few minutes previously. Those thoughts, although alluring and downright exciting, were very improper for a student. Snape was also very confused; he had not been the subject of a woman's attention since his school days, and had long since given up hope that he was to be found in the least... attractive. Yet here was a student, a bright student, who saw him in a different light.

He shrugged the thought off with a sneer; it had to be a mistake – maybe he had imagined it – maybe she had actually been envisaging herself and that god-awful red-head in such a clinch. Merlin knows, Weasely had fancied the pants off Granger since Day One, so why should she not return the favour? Who in their right mind would fancy 'Snivellus' Snape anyway? He was rude, cold and downright nasty – who was he kidding? That Granger girl would be fighting a losing battle if wanted nothing more than his respect, let alone anything else!

Clearing his throat he dismissed the class, noting that for once, the usually superior Granger had failed to even produce a passable potion. He was shocked – for the third (and he hoped, _FINAL_) time that day – what was going on in that girls mind? What could have distracted her from her precious class work? Recalling the lusty images he had detected, he stopped in his tracks – surely not...

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Hermione left the classroom in a hurry. She was confused – not only had she failed to produce the sleeping draught – but Snape had passed up on punishing her for it. Maybe he understood that she was not quite in her right mind – or maybe, she thought grimly, he knows that I'm already being punished enough. Detentions for a week? How was she supposed to concentrate on her potion if she wasn't going to have any spare time? Swearing under her breath, she leapt up the stairs two at a time, determined to get at least ten minutes with her precious brew and research before dinner.

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Less than two hours later, she found herself outside Snape's classroom once again. Having cut her timing a little fine, Hermione had sprinted down to the dungeons, still chewing on a mouthful of apple pie. Consequently, she took a few minutes to regain her breath before tapping lightly on the great oak door.

It seemed she had barely left, and yet she knew that time had to have passed – the candles lighting the passage glowed bright against the new moon, risen in the inky night-sky outside. She sighed impatiently, and lifted her hand to enter the classroom, only for the door to swing open of its own accord. Assuming Snape had opened it from the inside; she stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Looking around for the professor, she saw that the door to the supplies closet was slightly ajar – a light burning somewhere inside. Walking over to it, she stopped dead in her tracks, as she heard the moans from within. She felt an unfamiliar twinge in her stomach at the sound, but shrugged it off, putting it down to nerves. Unsure of what to do, Hermione took a few moments to consider what could be an awkward situation, before allowing her curiosity to gain the better of her.

Stealthily, Hermione crept closer to the half-open door, being careful to stick to the shadows. Staying out of sight, she peered curiously around the door, but could see nothing. She was just about to find a better vantage point, when her conscience kicked in.

_What are you doing? Spying on a teacher – you're supposed to be serving a detention, not giving the git more excuses to dock points from Gryffindor!_

Sighing, she backed away from the door, her curiosity momentarily put on hold. Turning to move towards a vacant bench, Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She was just near enough to catch precisely what it was that Snape was moaning. Not breathing, she simply swayed on the spot, mouth open and thoughts racing; as he repeated in a familiar gravely tone:

"_Hermione_"

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**R&R – Should this be continued?**


	2. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Since it was so much in demand – Chapter 2 –**** REPOSTED**** with additional details...**

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Hermione shook herself. _No, wait_, she thought, _this isn't real - I must have misheard_. She collected her wits, took a deep breath, and stepped forward into the store-cupboard.

The cupboard was dimly lit – a lantern swinging from a hook on the wooden ceiling cast long shadows around the small space. It was pretty much as Hermione remembered it from her second year; she felt a slight stir of guilt at the memory of the stolen boomslang skin. The walls were hidden behind rows of badly-constructed shelving, bottles, jars, coloured pouches, feathers and curious pickled items suspended in liquid. She took it all in, as her eyes searched the room for her main objective.

The professor was at the far end of the room, hunched over; his black robes veiling his body – the light barely touched his black form. Hermione gasped.

Snape whipped round, and his face first registered shock, then embarrassment (Hermione was intrigued by this), then by his usual sneer. "Miss Granger, I do not believe I invited you into my office. Has it ever occurred to you to knock?"

"I... I... Uh..." Hermione was speechless – what was she supposed to say?

"Come on girl, spit it out."

Plucking up her courage, Hermione blurted it out, "You were moaning my name, Professor."

For a split-second, she saw an unreadable emotion flit across Snape's eyes, but then they were back to glaring at her. "For your information Miss Granger, I had been thinking about ingredients for your class' lesson tomorrow." She stared at him, so he went on (though he hesitated, she noted), "We will be making Polyjuice potion, and I was checking up on our limited supplies of boomslang skin. To my surprise, I found a few shreds of the substance left – evidently, someone has been stealing school supplies." She continued staring at him, one eyebrow still raised, "I suspected it might be you – again – so I was about to cast a detecting charm, when I dropped my wand. Having picked it up, I stood up too quickly and knocked my head on this low beam," he indicated said timber, "I can only suggest that your name was the one that came to my head when I was searching for someone to blame for my agony."

He completed his explanation, and moved a bit closer to her. Lowering his voice a little, he asked, "Does that satisfy your insufferable curiosity?" She stood rooted to the spot, as he moved even closer, "Or would you like to feel the bump?" She could have sworn that the temperature had just been upped a notch, or maybe it was the heat she could feel radiating from this man. "It's quite real I assure you – and hot too," when he spoke, she could feel his breath on her ear.

She jumped back, like a rabbit in the glare of headlights; how had he gotten so close to her? And more to the point, what was going on here? This was her teacher – when had he become so... hot? And what was he playing at? She was a student – this was wrong on so many levels. Hermione Granger decided that she wanted out. Turning from him, she walked purposefully over to the door, and pushed.

Nothing happened

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Nothing happened? She took a second to realise that the door had not budged an inch – instead of being out in the cold dungeon, she was in a store-cupboard... with Snape. Now desperate to get out, she hammered on the door – there was no handle on the inside, she noted with worry. Reaching for her wand, she stepped back and yelled "_Alohamora_!"

The door remained stubbornly shut. On the brink of losing it altogether, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and spun round to see Snape (well, she thought, who else would I be expecting?). He looked torn between anger and concern; though the latter seemed to win through when he spoke, "Control yourself, Miss Granger, please."

"But we're LOCKED IN!" She yelled, as her voice became edgy with panic. Hermione was beyond all reason, and tried to push the professor away from her, swiping at him with flailing fists.

Anger seemed to gain control of him for a moment and he grabbed her shoulders as though trying to shake some sense into her, "Miss Granger, _will you listen_!" Then seeing her tears, he shook himself and continued in a kinder tone, "This door cannot be opened from the inside out – I had the locks fitted especially to prevent any night-time raids," he gave her a knowing look, "Yes, we are stuck in here, but not for long. The cleaner will be along in the morning – 6 AM sharp."

Taking it all in, Hermione took a deep breath and calmed down sufficiently to glance at her watch, "But Sir, it's ten at night! That's a whole eight hours stuck in here –" she neglected to finish her sentence, 'with you'.

"Yes Miss Granger, I am well aware of the time," Snape seemed to have regained his self-control, "So we'll just have to make do."

She glanced up at him, and began to notice the odd sensation of being in physical contact with Snape. His hands were still gripping her shoulders, effectively pinning her to the door. And he was close – so close to her – staring into his eyes; eyes so deep and black it was like looking into a great lake – she could drown in those eyes.

And that's when it happened. One moment she was looking into his eyes, the next... it was as though a blind had been lifted. Hermione felt herself plunging forwards, as though she were actually falling into his gaze. The only thing she could relate the feeling to, was being pulled into a Pensieve. She could almost feel the connection between them, as she broke down his mental defences; it was like an electrical current passing between them, which sent a tingling sensation through her entire body. She imagined that an onlooker might see a bright-white charge connecting the pair, sparking in the dark as the professor feebly attempted to occlude his student's exploration.

Snatches of long-buried memories flashed in front of her eyes. In one, a pale youth sat alone in a room with his head in his hands and tears running silently down his face; his limp black hair pushed back from his forehead. In another, she saw a wretched and scarred body, naked from the waist up, sprawled across moonlit ground; the face was contorted in pain as someone muttered '_Crucio_' from the shadows. Another image: this time, she saw a haggard Professor Snape, bent over his desk, as he sat alone in his study marking scrolls; the flickering candlelight highlighting the creased brow and tired features.

Hermione felt something unexpected awaken inside her: empathy. Never before had she truly felt any sympathy for Hogwarts' most despised professor, but now she had somehow touched on the depth of his pain and loneliness. She felt the awakening of compassion somewhere deep within her, and suddenly she knew why: she at last understood him.

She felt a sudden jerk and an unpleasant jolt, as Snape finally managed to overcome her invasion of his mind. Instead of breaking the connection however, he took the opportunity to explore her mind a little more, deciding that turnabout was fair-play.

He touched on memories that Hermione found too painful to easily recall, and Snape gasped as the scenes unfolded. He saw her bent over piles of books in the library, the parchment wet with tears, and Snape felt the pain and longing of the first-year Hermione, alone and friendless. The next memory showed Hermione twisted on the floor in a crumpled heap, her face screwed up with an excruciating pain, as she clutched her chest. Snape knew that it must be a recollection of fifth-year Hermione, when Potter and his gang invaded that Ministry building, and were set upon by Death Eaters. He had never realised until now, how close her brush with death had really been; she was braver than he gave her credit for. Before he could back-out from her mind, one last image flashed up at him. He saw seventh-year Hermione bent over her desk, quill moving furiously across the scrolls in front of her, a cauldron bubbling in one corner of her room. He saw how splashes of ink and lines of tiredness etched her young features, and once again, felt that sudden drive of understanding.

He wondered that he had never made these parallels before; they were so alike – more similar than either had thought to imagine. They may both hide behind tough exteriors, but as earlier explorations confirmed, they were both vulnerable once you got past those defence mechanisms.

Hermione had been thinking along similar lines; why had she never noticed this before? Seven years of potions with the man, and not once did she consider that, despite the hard-man act, he was as human as the next person.

As both sat in contemplation, Hermione felt a sudden surge from within, and found herself once more within his mind. It was an urge beyond her control, and unable to explain her actions, she found her mind delving once more into his subconscious. This time, her vision was shocking for a far different reason.

She saw the same dark dungeon-room as in her last vision of Snape, but this time there was another person in it. She took in a sharp breath – it was her.

_He had her there against the wall, forehead pressed against hers, breathing heavily. He lowered his lips to her neck, and she moaned as he suckled on some tender spot. She had her hands on his hips, holding him to her, his cloak covering them both. He moved his head back up to her lips, and kissed her, tenderly at first, but then with increasing passion. _

_Soon, his hands began to wander, underneath her blouse, unbuttoning it with the other hand. She was mewling like a kitten, encouraging his explorations. Her own hands soon divested him of his cloak and shirt; then she was running her hands over his hard, pale chest, her fingers following the line of wispy hair down below his navel._

_He moaned as she touched him, and he pushed against her, pressing his body to hers in an intimate embrace. Whispering something in her ear, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled him closer..._

"Hermione," she shook herself. Snape was staring at her, eyes wide. "What did you just do?"

She couldn't answer – she felt flushed and giddy. If that had been his mind, then she had just seen his most intimate thoughts.

She gasped as shocking realisation dawned: Snape thought about her...

He thought about her like that!

Hermione was suddenly aware that said teacher was still so close to her, still grasping her shoulders. She made the mistake of looking back up into his eyes.

Something clicked insider her mind, and without thinking, she leant in and pressed her lips to his.

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**R&R people...**


	3. Down Once More

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**You wanted it – so here it is... **

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His lips were surprisingly soft against hers; they were also hot, and her own soon became infused with a similar heat. Hermione even imagined that she could feel his pulse, beating softly against her closed lips. For that small loop in time, she enjoyed the moment; revelled in the intimacy of this illicit action. She sighed, and so doing opened her mouth slightly; surprised to find that it was still joined to his, and his mouth mirrored her movement. She could now feel the hot tingle of his breath, mixed with the sweet humidity of his mouth. She had never felt anything like this before; yes, she had kissed a few boys, but none of them had ever evoked this strange, swooping sensation in her stomach. She could get lost in this sensation, she decided, as her lips moved over his of their own accord – it just seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Then she heard him moan.

Even as she felt him grip her shoulders harder, the warning bells were going off in her head. She backed out of the embrace with a small squeak, tearing her lips from his and ducking out from under his arms. No longer pinned against the wall, Hermione bolted for the opposite side of the tiny room, at all times keeping one eye on Snape. A dozen thoughts were crowding her head:

_You kissed a teacher..._ _what was that vision?_

_You KISSED a teacher _– _is it illegal?_

_You kissed a TEACHER_ – _I've never felt anything like that_ _before, those lips; that softness - my whole body was tingling_

_YOU KISSED A TEACHER!_

Yes, she decided as she paced round the small space, this was the most burning issue. She blanched as she took it all in, she was trapped in a room for the next – she glanced at her watch – seven and a half hours, with a professor – a member of staff – that she had just kissed. She thought about what Harry and Ron would say; first she imagined Harry's dark expression _'Hermione, this is serious – we're in the middle of a war, and you just kissed a Death Eater – he could be a spy!'_ Harry's image then melted into the shock of red Weasley hair and she saw Ron's gaping mouth and wide eyes – his eyebrows practically disappearing into his tousled fringe. Ron would be lost for words, she decided, and for some reason she found this insanely funny. Maybe it was the tension, maybe it was just the image of Ron's indignation, but she suddenly gave in to a strange urge to burst out laughing.

"Hoohoo," she spluttered, trying to get a grip on her self-control. After a few seconds, her sensible side won her over, and she tried to mask her outburst with a fit of coughing. Realising that she had momentarily forgotten the reason for her distress she turned to look across the room at the professor. He was oddly quiet. Against her better judgement, Hermione tiptoed a little closer to him. With a good metre of space still between them, she stopped and called softly.

"Professor, are you alright?"

No answer. She crept a little nearer and called again.

"Sir?"

Still no answer. Covering the final few steps, she reached up and touched his shoulder gingerly.

"Sir-"

"_What_?" he spun around to face her.

She shrieked, back-tracked, and promptly fell over her robe. She lay still on the stone floor, stunned momentarily, as he loomed over her. His eyes were red – had he been crying? And there was anger in his expression; anger, fear and possibly the slightest hint of hurt.

"Miss Granger," she gulped, when he at last spoke, "Would you care to tell me when precisely it was that you became a Legilimens?"

"What?" she swallowed, thrown for a loop; that wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"Do I need to explain what a Leglimens is, Miss Granger? Perhaps in your brief moment of insanity you lost your mind?" He was sneering down at her again and she could see that his defences were back up in full force. Whatever it was that she had stumbled on only moments ago, that vulnerability, was once again hidden by layers of spite and hurt.

"No," she gulped again, trying to gain her breath and assess the situation, "I know perfectly well what one is, I just don't understand why you're asking – you know for a fact that I have never taken lessons in Legilimency."

Snape looked somewhat taken aback at this. "But Miss Granger – to enter my mind like that – no-one but a skilled Legilimens..." He tailed off, at a loss for words, his mind failing to re-group, as he felt all reason and logic fall apart beneath him.

"I don't know how it happened," the girl confessed, "but one moment I was staring into your eyes, and the next – well, I was inside your mind..." She too tailed off, uncertain what to think or say.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and, being Hermione, she voiced it, "But Sir, you're a skilled Occlumens – why didn't you just block me from your mind?"

He stared at her for a long moment, before ducking his head and muttering something too quiet for her to catch.

"What was that Professor?"

He repeated it.

"I couldn't." It was Hermione's turn to stare at him. "I couldn't shut you out."

She thought for a moment, "Couldn't? Or _wouldn't_?" She let the silent accusation hang in the air.

When he didn't answer, she continued carefully, "Maybe you didn't want to block me out? Maybe you were too tired... or maybe you just decided that you needed to let someone in... and since we're stuck here for the rest of the night and you appear to have at least some respect for me..." he raised an eyebrow, but she carried on, "You allowed me in. Maybe you're fed up of being alone; maybe you felt the connection we share – you and I, we're more similar than we realise."

Eyebrow still raised, he continued to stare down at her. He couldn't detect any mind-reading at present, so how was it that this girl suddenly knew exactly what he was thinking? Yes, he had allowed her in. Why? That was still a bit of a grey-area for Severus Snape. He couldn't explain what possessed him to allow this Gryffindor girl to sift through his deepest emotions, at will.

While he was pondering that one, he decided to throw her off his trail for a while; at least until he had figured things out. So, changing tact as quickly as a viper, he voiced what they'd both been thinking only moments ago.

"Is that why you kissed me Granger?"

Her breath caught in her throat at his frankness – it was as by voicing the action it was somehow more real. She felt her cheeks redden and her heart-beat began to race once again, "Well... I... um... I saw _me_... and... _you_... in your head..."

He was watching her intently, like a hawk with its prey, "Oh really? And what exactly did you see?"

Was it just her, or was the room growing hotter? Hermione gulped; she managed to stay her voice long enough to answer, "You know perfectly well what I saw, Sir, it _was_ your mind. A mistake - a highly inappropriate mistake though it was."

He seemed to be leaning further over her, as he lowered his voice a little, a hint of growl in it. "Did you ever think that I might have wanted you to see that, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blinked, and tried to control her breathing, now very aware of her vulnerable position. How had this happened again? Why was he in control? She was still flat on her back on the cold floor, he was bent over her, like a lion over a fallen antelope, his hands and knees either side of her, pinning her there.

He lowered his head to her ear, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I think it's fair turnaround, Miss Granger. After your – _display_ – this morning..." He let his words hang in the air, and Hermione instantly understood the insinuation. He must have somehow entered her mind that morning, while she was otherwise... _distracted_... with a certain daydream. She felt her blush spread all the way down from her fiery cheeks to her neck. She looked up at him swiftly, trying to gauge his reaction to her acknowledgement.

He never took his eyes off hers and continued as if there had been no pause.

"Well – I'm only... _responding_..."

He let the last word hang in the air. Hermione shivered; she was not all that cold, in fact she felt flushed, but his words and his voice had managed to send a tingle of electricity down her spine. They awoke something deep inside her – some carnal instinct that would not be ignored.

He raised his head, staring once again into her eyes, so close now that their noses were almost touching. Hermione gasped as she saw the predatory gleam in his eyes, and at once found herself lost in those swirling onyx orbs. His irises were so sooty that they blended almost seamlessly with his jet-black pupils; those were eyes Hermione could fall straight into. Sensing her pulse quicken as he moved closer still, she felt her defences drop away, leaving her at his mercy. She inhaled his scent; warm and masculine and something indescribable – something just so... Snape...

She knew that it was wrong, but she wouldn't be denied it now. She wanted him – badly. As she stared up into those inky globes, she felt an invisible gateway open, and knew he was allowing her to enter his mind once again.

She saw images of herself, and him –

_Ardent, groping, and lascivious, pressed up against one another, their bodies melded together in a heated passion_.

Back-tracking quickly, she found herself once again entranced in his gaze; inhaling him and feeling his breath on her cheek. It seemed so natural just to lift her head up and close the gap between them.

But before she had a chance, he had descended on her, lips pressed tight against hers, mouth moving desperately. He pushed her head against the floor, and leaning his weight upon her; their bodies pressed together.

She only had time to catch her breath and moan softly, "Oh _Severus_..."

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**Like it? R & R...**


	4. Chandelier Crash

**Re-posted with a few more details. Trying to get story to flow more before I move on to next chapter!**

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All Snape wanted to do, was _feel_. This warm, soft body beneath him was passionate and pliant; her lips were crushed against his as she reciprocated the kiss. It was as though there was some kind of electrical energy flowing between them; he could feel Hermione trembling beneath him. He was pretty sure she wasn't scared – but was she cold? He drew her closer to him, wrapping his cloak around them both; enveloping them both in a soft blackness. He felt her heart beating tenfold beneath her bosom, as she clung to him; her breathing on his neck was ragged as he pressed his lips to her hair and throat.

"_Ohhh_... Severus..." she moaned his given name again, as he lightly bit the base of her throat. Tilting her head back to give him better access, she felt his hot mouth descend further down her flushed neck.

The second mention of his name brought Snape to his senses, and he came back to Earth with a sharp thud. What was he doing? She was a STUDENT!

Reluctantly, but firmly, he disentangled himself from Hermione and stood up sharply. He was surprised to find that his breathing too was abnormally fast; he shook himself – _come on Severus, get a grip, she's your student – this is wrong_.

Hermione was still lying spread-eagled on the floor, her head was spinning, her lips still warm and plump from his kisses, and her breathing faster than she had ever known it. It took a few moments for her senses to return, and she concentrated on bringing her pulse back down to a just-above-average speed. Speech gradually returned to her, and she was able to ask her question:

"Did I do something wrong?"

Her voice was so quiet and confused, that the professor felt guilty – she deserved a proper explanation.

"I...uh..." Snape was surprised to find that his voice didn't work. What was wrong with him? Thoroughly annoyed at his own lack of communication, he glanced around for inspiration. He looked down at her, surprised to note that he felt a flutter of lusty heat in his stomach – she appeared so tousled; her hair was mussed up, and her cheeks were flushed...

"Professor?" She interrupted this particular train of thought, aware that he was staring at her. What was he thinking?

"Look, I'm sorry Herm- Miss Granger," Snape quickly corrected himself, his voice and manner having returned, "That shouldn't have happened. You are a student, and I, your teacher; I should be setting an example. I think it best that we both forget this little incident – it was a mistake - and don't go gossiping to Potter and Weasley." He added this as an after-thought. He tried to sound reasonable; after all, it would do more harm than good if her precious little friends found out. Potter and Weasley were not renowned for their consideration, but rather for their fiery tempers. Severus Snape had no wish to have to deal with overly-hormonal teenage boys on some vengeance escapade.

Hermione looked down, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over; she would not let him see that. "Why would I want to do that, _Sir_, if it was only a 'mistake'...?" She trailed off, hurt by his comments, and at the same time, wondering why she should be upset.

_No_, Hermione thought,_ you know perfectly well why you're upset. This is the man you've always defended to your friend; the man you look up to; and the man you've had a crush on since your third year; now he kisses you and thinks nothing of it? That, Hermione Jane Granger, is _exactly _why you're upset._

The room was quietly tense, and although she tried to hide it, Hermione could not stop the single teardrop _splash _on the stone floor.

The sneer fell from Snape's face as he realised she was crying. Bending down he took her hand and pulled her up to stand in front of him; tilting her chin up to look into her sorrowful face. This was an uncharacteristic show of compassion; and they both knew it.

"Now what's wrong?" he couldn't help the sarcasm – it was just how he conversed. Realising his mistake when she reprised her sobbing, he quickly adjusted his tone. "Miss Granger, we still have seven hours left in here together, so why don't you let me in on what's bothering you."

He was surprised to hear Hermione snort abruptly, in a most un-lady-like fashion. He glanced at her curiously, trying to place the sound in this strange turn of events.

Hermione put him straight. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, "It's just so... _you_!"

He continued staring at her, obviously confused. "I mean," she continued, "You get stuck in a room with a premenstrual woman who you've made the mistake of kissing – _twice_ – and have consequently brought to tears, and all you can think about is counting down the hours 'til you're free!"

He continued to watch her whilst he spoke, "Miss Granger, am I to understand that the rollercoaster of mood-swings and incidents tonight can be put down to a simple case of PMS?"

Hermione giggled – inappropriate though it was; she suddenly found the Professor's tone to be very amusing. She then realised that the room appeared to be spinning, ever so slightly, and noticed a drunken giddiness beginning to creep over her. Leaning forward to steady herself, she found her forehead resting against Snape's chest. She looked down at the floor – _hmmm_, _that's odd_, she thought, _since when did Snape have three feet_?

Snape simply stood there, concerned at this sudden change in her demeanour, but not really knowing what to do. One minute lust, then tears, hysterical laughter, and now this? He awkwardly put one arm on her back to steady her, not wanting to tempt himself by pulling into an embrace. _Best to keep it professional_, he affirmed, _not that it can get much worse anyway - though at least I haven't done anything more than kiss her_. His mind once again unbidden filled with images – skin against skin, his hands in her hair, her curves sliding against him...

He could easily have gone on to continue his fantasising, but two things stopped him. One was his conscience; the other was Hermione, as she slid from his chest in a dead-faint.

He only just caught her in time, grabbing her wrist before she fell limply to the floor, but he couldn't prevent her catching her head on the way down. Her skull made a dull _thwack_ against the shelf. Snape saw the shelf wobble in his peripheral vision, and had but seconds to act. He had no idea what potent potions and ingredients might be on that particular shelf, but this didn't matter – there was a student in danger, and it was his duty as a teacher to protect her.

He flung himself over Hermione, and rolled them out of the way of the impending destruction. Covering them with his cloak, he waited, holding his breath.

He didn't have to wait long...

_CRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAASSHHHHHHHHHH_

The room seemed to explode around them; glass flew in shards as bottles smashed; a noxious green liquid sprayed over the pair, hissing as it burnt skin; clouds of purple smoke hung in the air, sparking in the darkness.

Hermione regained consciousness with a start, when she felt something hot brand her forehead. When she tried to sit up, Snape forced her back down, pulling the cloak over their heads protectively. Suddenly Hermione forgot the burning and chaos around her; she was distracted by the fact that her potions professor was lying on top of her.

His weight on her felt oddly pleasant; _though_, she thought, _this is neither the time nor place to be considering this. We appear to be in some kind of war-zone, and all you can do is fantasise about his body on yours? It's just wrong Granger, you cannot do this_. She mentally shook herself and tried to concentrate on the situation in hand.

"What's going on?"

Snape peered down at her in the dim light beneath his cloak. "Well," he explained in silky tones, "You did me the great honour of fainting on me, then slid to the floor and chose to take down a shelf or two with you. Not your greatest moment, I can assure you."

Hermione giggled nervously, wondering at Snape's ability to find the dry humour in the most unusual circumstances. "Sorry about that. I think it was just standing up to quickly, all that blood rushing to my head – and I didn't get to eat much at dinner, because I had to get to your detention. Then... well, kissing you didn't help all that much... you left my head kinda... spinning..." She finished lamely.

Snape bit his lip, as her words encouraged blood to rush to a certain part of his anatomy. Lying on top of her didn't help much either – he could feel the way his body fitted against her curves and dips; felt her chest rise and fall with every breath.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked coyly. Truth was, she already knew: since she had seemingly formed some kind of mental connection with Snape, she seemed to be much more in tune with his thoughts. It wasn't quite Legilimency, but something personal – some kind of innate understanding and empathy with this tall dark man. It meant that she could feel the emotion and intentions of his thoughts, without knowing any specific content. An odd sensation, she decided; one that she couldn't really explain – just yet.

"Why do you ask?" Snape was glad she couldn't see his face in the darkness.

"It's just that you've still got your hands on my shoulders, and your _grip_ is quite _hard_." Hermione emphasised the two words, teasing him, daring him to confess what she already knew.

What Hermione didn't realise, was that this link between them was a two-way thing. He also had some inclination of her thoughts. So without missing a beat, Snape removed his hands from her shoulders, and slid them down her sides to rest on her hips; his fingers lingeringly deliciously on their travels.

"Is this any better, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly.

Hermione was thrown for a loop, what should she do now? Surely it was akin to playing with fire if she encouraged him, and yet... she didn't want to discourage him either...

"Mmm," she muttered, sounding a tad bored and non-committal. So doing, she wriggled her hips a little, naively rubbing against him.

Snape bit his lip harder; he was having enough trouble with his self-control without her doing that. He held her hips firmly, preventing any further movement on her part, however accidental.

"That's better - though your hands are a little cold, Professor," Hermione's voice was the epitome of innocence. "Maybe I could warm them up a little?" She slid her small hands down her body to rest over his, before rubbing them slightly.

Snape's lip was beginning to hurt now, bite it any harder and he would draw blood.

"Please _desist_, Miss Granger" it was an effort to control his voice now.

"And why's that sir?" Hermione kept up her act, leaning back so that her torso stuck out slightly, breasts brushing against his chest.

"Because if you keep up this insane act, Miss Granger, I won't be able to much longer resist the temptation to pounce on you." Snape's voice was already laced with lust, the silky baritone lost in favour of a husky whisper.

She stared up at him, trying to make out his face in the dim light. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, her breathing shallow, and her body tingling in anticipation. Did she want this? Wasn't this the man she had been secretly fantasising about for the last month? When had she started to _want_ Professor Snape?

Questions could wait till later, she decided, this is for here and now; it was time to prove her Gryffindor courage. Bracing herself, she put her lips to his ear, and whispered the phrase that would change everything.

"_Who says I want you to resist_?"

She heard a growl.

He pounced.

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**If you're enjoying this, do take the time to review – I appreciate all comments and criticism.**


	5. Reprise

He pounced.

At the same moment, Hermione yelped, and sat up rather quickly.

_KERTHUNKKK_

Their heads met in midair with a sickening thud.

"_STHHHH _– MISS – GRAN-GER –"

"_EEEKMPH_ – PRO-FESS-OR -"

"What – in – Merlin's –"

"You – hit – me –"

For a few moments, everything was confusion and pain. Hermione saw coloured lights flash in her light, beating a rhythm to the throbbing in her forehead. Snape meanwhile was nursing a broken and bloodied nose, whilst trying to steady himself with one hand as he sat up.

Snape regained the ability to talk first.

"Miss Granger, what in the name of Ptolemy was that?" He sucked in a breath as another bolt of pain shot through his nose.

Hermione blinked a few times, waiting for the thudding pain in her head to dim slightly.

"Well?" Snape seemed almost like his usual irritable self; his defenses were back up, and there was no trace of the passion and vulnerability that were present only seconds earlier.

"Well what?" Hermione snapped back, "You think I meant to break your nose?"

Snape bit back the retort, and Hermione continued.

"There must have been a jar or something still on that shelf," she indicated the collapsed beams, "Because when you were about to... uh..." Hermione trailed off, not sure how to word it.

Snape understood and simply nodded for her to carry on.

"...Something smashed, and I think I got hit by the shrapnel. At any rate, I felt a sudden searing pain in my head, and sat up – and well, you know the rest" she finished lamely.

He nodded, as understanding spread across his countenance.

"Right then Miss Granger, come here." He beckoned her with one finger.

She looked blankly at him, and didn't move.

"Look, I only want to ascertain the damage to your head." Still eyeing him curiously, Snape raised one eyebrow slightly and allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his features, "I won't bite, Miss Granger."

_I wouldn't mind if you did _- Hermione smirked at the thought, and shifted over to where he was sitting. She forgot once again that he could read her mind like a book.

She felt him move behind her, sitting with one leg spread either side of her and his back against the door to the room.

"_Lumos_" He cast an illumination charm, and pulled her head up to the wand-light. "Would you mind holding my wand for a moment? I shall need both hands to examine your skull." He pulled her hand up to the right level, and then gave her his wand. He briefly closed his hand over his and wrapped her fingers around the baton, lightly running his fingers down her arm as he slid his hand away.

Hermione closed her eyes as she enjoyed this intimate moment. When he spoke, she could feel the low rumble of his voice, his chest pressed up against her back. As his fingers traced a sensual path down her arm, she had to suppress a shiver.

Trying to concentrate on his examination, Snape gently ran his fingers over her head. Hermione drew in her breath sharply, as he touched a piece of glass, which appeared to be embedded in her skull.

"I'm sorry – I'll try to be a bit more careful in future," the professor sounded concerned. He carried on, and heard her gasp as his fingers brushed another piece of glass.

She cut him off before he could apologise, "It's alright – don't worry about me – just get it over with." Hermione grimaced as he found another piece; adding as an afterthought, "It's distracting enough to hear you acting contrite as it is!"

As she was facing away from him, Hermione missed the odd look on Snape's face; a cross between a smirk and regret. This little witch certainly knew how to fight back – her little retorts were almost Slytherin in nature.

Switching his mind back to the task in hand, he determined that he had found all the pieces of shrapnel. All he had to do now was remove them.

"Alright, Miss Granger, this next bit may hurt. I can't risk using charms to remove the shards because they are too close to your brain. We wouldn't want to go messing with that now, would we?" She rolled her eyes at his rhetorical question. "Just sit still, and try not to move your head."

She nodded, without thinking.

"Miss Granger? What did I just say about remaining absolutely motionless?" She blushed slightly, but didn't say anything.

Taking this as consent to begin, Snape parted her hair gently with his hands. There were four pieces of glass caught in her head, and since they were quite deep, he knew their removal would be pretty painful. Breathing in deeply, he tugged cautiously at the first shard. It didn't move. Tugging a little harder, he managed to extract it with reasonable ease. What he wasn't prepared for, was the blood. The glass must have snagged a vein for the wound to bleed so profusely. Swearing softly, he gave an order:

"Miss Granger – your wand?" Slightly startled, Hermione dug her wand out of her pocket, whilst still trying to keep as still as possible. She didn't even think of questioning him, before entrusting him with her wand.

"_Episkey_" Snape muttered the healing spell, before following it up with a quick vanishing charm. Minor incident averted, he drew a deep breath.

"Miss Granger, thank you for your quick compliance to my demand." Hermione smiled slightly as he returned her wand – she knew this translated roughly as 'Thank you for trusting me'. She knew her action would probably seem odd to an onlooker – wizards rarely entrusted their wand with another person – it was too personal and important. Yet she had just confirmed her trust in Snape, by handing it over to him without a second thought.

Hermione was so engrossed in her thoughts that Snape had managed to extract the next two pieces of glass from her head, without her noticing. What brought her back to reality was a sharp pain.

Snape had been working on the final splinter of glass, when he heard Hermione let out a sharp cry. He fought to stay still, as she gripped his thighs with both hands – evidently, the pain was more severe here than with the others. Maybe the shard had caught on a nerve? He tried to loosen the glass, but it remained firmly stuck, and he whimpered slightly as her nails dug into his leg. If the pain was she was relaying to him was bad, he could only imagine how terrible it was for her.

Trying to ignore her death-grip on his thighs, he concentrated on removing the damned object. Swearing quietly to himself, he gave it a final tug.

Hermione yelped, and clamped his leg once more in a vice-like grip. The final splinter of glass in his hand, Snape bit his lip through the pain and set about cleaning and mending the wound.

With a final mutter of "_Evanesco_", Snape relaxed back against the wood; glad for the support it gave his worn-out frame. Hermione had since ceased to cut off the blood-supply to his ankles, but her nails had left crescent-shaped marks on the inside of his thighs.

Breathing returned to normal and the pain only a dim ache, Hermione turned to thank her Potions Professor.

"Thanks Sir, that was –" her voice trailed off when she saw that he was hurt. "Sir, your nose – what happened?"

"Oh," he sounded weak, "Well, when you so kindly sat up and knocked me for six, I think it may have broken." Not too weak for dry sarcasm then, she noted. "I forgot about it." He added sheepishly, noticing her glance.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione picked up her wand and muttered a healing charm. She heard the click as the broken bone and cartilage fused back together. Satisfied that all was now well, she felt a sudden wave of tiredness steal over her.

Looking up she saw Snape yawn, and knew that he too was feeling exhausted. Given the night of extraordinary events, she couldn't really blame him, she supposed. As her eyelids began to droop she saw him motion to her. Frowning a little, she looked up at him for an answer.

Sighing he spoke in a tired voice, "If we're going to sleep, I think we'd better get comfortable."

He motioned to her again, and Hermione was confused – did he mean her to join him?

"Look you silly girl, I don't want to freeze to death. It'll get quite chilly in here once we stop moving, and we both know that the best way to preserve bodily heat is to share it." His voice was too tired even for sarcasm, but she noticed that he sounded a little concerned. That was odd, she decided.

Grudgingly she acquiesced and leant back against his chest, tucking her legs up under her. He drew his knees up so that she was cradled between them, and summoned a cloth from the corner of the room. With a few whispered words, he transfigured the ragged material into a fleecy blanket. Tucking this around them, he relaxed, and allowed sleep to finally overcome him.

Breathing in the scent of her hair, he muttered a muffled "Goodnight, _Hermione_" into her hair.

She grinned sleepily, and snuggled up to him, breathing out a quiet "Night, _Severus_".

As they drifted off, Snape managed a small smile, and slid his arms around her.

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**R & R...**


	6. We Have All Been Blind

**Have had an interesting plot revelation whilst I was daydreaming in English Lesson – I think I may now know where this is heading – and is hopefully much better that the PWP I intended at first...**

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It was an hour before sunrise and the candles had burnt low, casting soft shadows across the pair in the corner. Shattered tubes and bottles lay strewn across the stone floor; the remnants of the shelf lying quietly to one side – the only indication of the explosive events of the previous night. The sleeping warmth by the door seemed at odds with the cold chaos of the scene, and yet the room was saturated with a peaceful atmosphere. It seemed that, for once in their lives, both occupants of the room were at ease; Dark Lords, homework and war seemed far flung from this place – they slept on...

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Snape awoke first, yawing widely; he made to stretch out his arms, but stopped short when he discovered that they were stuck. Peering down in alarm he realised that he was in fact somewhat attached to another person. To make matters worse, that person was Hermione Granger; none other than that jumped-up know-it-all Granger.

As he felt his lip lifting in his usual sneer, when Hermione mumbled something in her sleep and turned her body, snuggling up to his chest. Two things froze that half-formed sneer. Firstly, Snape actually felt his stomach give an uncharacteristic flip; it sounded so clichéd and this annoyed him further. Secondly, Hermione's change in position meant that his arm – which was currently wrapped around her – slid round, leaving his hand draped decidedly across her bosom.

He froze; the only movement that took place was the slight smile that spread subconsciously across his features. It had been a long time since he had felt a woman in his arms, felt that warm pulse and softness of skin next to his. Not wanting to disturb Hermione, lest she move, he allowed her to sleep on, revelling in this strange closeness. Mentally he shook himself; who would have thought that he and Granger could have spent a night locked up together, and both of them come out with limbs and memories intact? He let out a quiet snort of wonder, imagining various scenarios where he and Hermione had to be carried out of the cupboard, both jinxed to the point of no return. He took a moment to gaze down at the girl, asleep in his lap. Her face was flushed slightly pink, and a wisp of toffee-blushed hair rose and fell with her steady breathing. Gently tucking the stray strand behind her ear, Snape allowed his appraisal to continue. He notice her arms: one was nestled under her chin, holding a bunched fist of his cloak in her small hand; the other was resting over his arm, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, as though holding him in place. Her legs were tucked up underneath her and her small form curled up against him, as though he were a barrier against some great storm.

When his eyes glanced over her neck, they briefly dipped down and he caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Although his angle would have afforded him an uninterrupted viewing, the Professor whipped his head up sharply. _Merlin, what are you doing Severus? The girl is asleep and you're still stuck in this damned cupboard; this is no time to start perving on students!_ He felt suddenly sickened; if she had woken up then, what would she have thought of him? Would he not come across as some leering, greasy old man who was taking advantage of the student sleeping in between his legs? He shuddered, for suddenly, it seemed that what Hermione thought of him, did actually matter. Besides the fact that he did not want to be sacked for charges of indecent behaviour with an underage student, he began to realise that he was actually becoming... fond... of Miss Granger.

It was odd, he thought, _all those years she's been in your class, and not once, did you really pay any attention to her_. He felt guilty: not only had he shunned his brightest student, but he had regularly made a point of insulting her. He swallowed, remembering:

_"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger, I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."_

"_I see no difference"_

He really had been a bit harsh – _and that's putting it lightly..._ he though miserably. Well, before now he had never had a problem with that. But then again, when was the last time he had felt anything even vaguely close to affection, for a woman? He couldn't explain it, but somehow, Hermione Granger had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the mind-connection; maybe it was her sudden concern for his injury; maybe it was the way she was huddled against his thin form, as though searching for comfort. So many things had happened that night that could explain his shifting opinion.

And the night wasn't over yet, he thought grimly. On an impulse, Snape carefully fished his silver watch out of his pocket, being mindful not to tangle the tiny chain in Hermione's bushy hair. Glancing down at the dial, he confirmed his worst suspicions. The small line of numbers in the centre told him that it was most definitely past 6AM – closer to 7. Why hadn't the cleaner appeared and unlocked the door? He was never late – that house-elf was under strict instruction to be on time, otherwise the Potions Master would find plenty of gruelling punishments for him. Saving his indignation for a later date, Snape returned to the watch.

The magical dial was not used for telling the time, but for describing the occupant's situation. Watching the tiny silver hand move, Snape's heart sunk as it travelled from 'Sleeping' across 'Deadly Peril' and 'Teaching'. He raised an eyebrow as the hand hovered momentarily over 'Canoodling', before sighing with relief as it carried on its journey. This respite however was short lived, as the hand finally came to rest upon the five o'clock position. Leaning in to read the tiny script, Snape let out a long sigh.

The dial read: "Stuck", and after a moment, another word appeared directly under the first; it read "Indefinitely".

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Hermione rose from the grasping depths of sleep, upon feeling a cold breeze hit the back of her neck. She did not move for a moment; she felt so unbelievably comfortable and couldn't remember the last time she had slept that soundly. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered the reason for both her comfort and warmth. Looking around, she a flash of pale skin, and then soft blackness all around. It took her a minute or two to figure out the shapes, and gradually came back to her: the blur of a chaotic and eventful night, and then falling asleep. Or more specifically, falling asleep on Professor Snape. The only difference between reality and memory, was the arm wrapped around her – _when did that happen?_ she wondered.

Assuming his stillness meant that Snape was still sleeping, she moved gingerly, trying to asses the damage of the night before. She touched one small hand to her head, running her fingers experimentally over the recently healed wounds. Everything seemed in order, _except that arm..._ she pondered. Puzzled as she was, there was still a small part of Hermione that had to admit, she quite liked it. _It feels kind of... secure..._ she decided, _like being hugged for a long time. It's not like he's being pervy or anything, it's just... nice... It's nice to have someone there for me_. She smiled to herself, these thoughts were wrong in so many ways: he was a teacher; he was Snape; and he was comforting her. The last point, to her surprise, disturbed her the most. She was so used to seeing Snape in 'greasy git' mode, that it was strange to think of him being at all compassionate or compromising his strict manner.

But then, she thought, a lot had happened in the last couple of hours – who was she to cast judgement? She had read his mind, and she had initiated the kissing. Blushing furiously at the mere memory, Hermione turned to bury her head in his chest. She wasn't used to this; guys never paid her attention – well, not in _that_ way at any rate. She was just Hermione Granger: Bookworm; homework-fanatic; and class know-it-all. Strange that it should be the malevolent Potions Master who finally saw her for what she was – a young woman. _Weirdest thing is_, Hermione bit her lip, _I think I might even like it... I might like him..._

She was not one to jump in headfirst like Harry and Ron always seemed to, but sometimes, she thought, you just had to go with your gut feeling. She couldn't explain it, but this felt right somehow; even if it was illicit and wrong on just about every level possible. Hermione smirked; sometimes rules were made to be broken...

She was lying there contemplating these new trains of thought, when she felt the rumble in Snape's chest. Before she could turn round to face him, he lowered his head to her ear and spoke.

"Miss Granger, I think I ought to warn you. Our imprisonment in this room may not be as short-lived as I previously stated."

The shock in her voice was evident: "How long will we be in here?"

"Well," his silky voice tickled her ear, "I'd say... indefinitely?"

Facing the same direction, they stared into the low-light, absorbing the situation. Neither saw the other grin.

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**Ok, a shorter chapter, but I'm trying to spend time revising as well, and thought I should post this as soon as I could. A nice little interlude where we caught up with Severus and Hermione – though I promise more action for the next chapter.**

**What do you reckon?**


	7. Poor Fool She Makes Me Laugh

**It's taken some time to sort out this chapter – still grappling with the plot – and I have A Levels to study for. Enjoy**

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Hermione broke the silence first; in her opinion; the hush had gone on long enough. She twisted in his arms to stare up into his face, supporting herself by resting back against one knee.

"Right, so we're stuck – now what?"

Snape glanced down at her in confusion. Didn't the girl understand? 'Stuck Indefinitely' pretty much said it all.

Hermione continued, ignoring his expression, "I mean, what have we got to deal with here? Have we got any food? Water? Bathroom? Beds?" She made sure to make the last word plural – she didn't want him to get the wrong impression. _Not just yet, anyway_ she thought.

The professor looked at her quizzically for a moment, before he did a most unexpected thing, and snorted with laughter. Hermione was thoroughly confused and taken aback.

"May I ask what you find so amusing, Sir?" When he continued to chuckle, she began to feel a little annoyed. "Look, this isn't funny! We are stuck in a small, badly-lit room with little or no chance of getting out in the foreseeable future – now just what is it that is entertaining you so much?"

Snape managed to stifle a "You!" before he subsided once again into sniggering chortles.

Now quite enraged, Hermione glared up at the helpless Potions master. He caught the fiery look she was aiming at him and allowed his mirth to peter out; that girl, he decided, could burn holes in him with eyes like those. As his laughter subsided into the occasional chuckle, he at last managed to answer Hermione's accusing gaze.

"It's you," he repeated his earlier exclamation. Noting Hermione's expression, he carried on, "We're stuck in this tiny room and all you can worry about is the fact that it's 'badly-lit'. And you immediately try to figure out your assets – food, bathroom etc. I mean – it's just so you!"

"Go on," she muttered.

"I mean – anyone else would be banging their head against the wall," he demonstrated in comic fashion, "or bursting into hysterics because they are forced to spend time in the same room as the greasy, dungeon bat!" He glanced at Hermione for confirmation.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. But – I'm not just 'anyone else'-"

"Precisely – which is why it's so funny. You're just so... Hermione Granger."

She looked at him oddly, "I'll take that as a compliment."

He leant back against the wall, relaxing slightly. "In answer to your earlier questions, I believe we'll be alright. I can't think that someone would lock us in a room deliberately and leave us to starve."

Hermione frowned, "Someone locked us in? Did this deliberately? But why?"

He shrugged, "I've no idea. But doors don't just lock themselves. Someone of significant magical power must have sealed this door; they would have to first overrule my own personal wards on the gateway. And I would guess that they've also placed us under some kind of time-freeze, so that time stands still outside; otherwise our combined absences wouldn't go unnoticed for very long." He sat for a while deep in thought.

She had to admit, she was impressed. Snape had obviously worked all this out by himself – she supposed it made a lot of sense. _Except the reason_ she thought, _why would someone want to lock us in? Vengeance? No – not even Malfoy is that powerful_

"Anyway," Snape interrupted her thoughts, "Back to the present situation. First thing's first: bathroom is over there – this cupboard connects straight through to my own personal bathroom." She looked up at him with raised eyebrow, "In case of emergencies?" He offered, before moving on. "Anyway, second important asset: food." He shoved his hands into his voluminous pockets and dug around in them, finally extracting an apple core and a few bread crumbs. "These will do," he muttered.

"Sorry, Sir," Hermione was confused, "But what are you doing?"

He looked up at her with a smirk on his features, "Oh don't tell me the great Granger hasn't thought of this." She looked blankly at him. "Ok – it's a simple transfiguration spell. You take a small piece of the original food, and from a single crumb, you can recreate that item. This process can go on for as long as you like, so long as there's always part of the item to transfigure." He gave Hermione the smallest of winks. "So, what have you got in your pockets?"

Embarrassed at not having spotted the solution earlier, Hermione fished around in her own pockets. "Right... I've got... one square of chocolate... some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans... and... a rather squashed grape." She tipped her small pile of booty onto her cloak.

"Right, that's good. I think we'll leave the beans for now though," he grimaced a little at the memory of an earwax-flavoured sweet, "But the rest should be fine." Drawing out his wand, he muttered the spell under his breath and gave the baton an elaborate whirl. Suddenly Hermione found her cloak weighed down with several bunches of grapes, a dozen apples, four rolls and a large unwrapped bar of Honeyduke's finest chocolate.

Grinning at this turn of events, Hermione thanked him. "Brilliant, Professor! But what about drink – you don't happen to have a flask of pumpkin juice on your person, do you?

Snape shook his head, "No, but I do have a charm that might fix that." Drawing out his wand again, he uttered a single word: _"Aguamenti_".

The next instant, Hermione found herself soaked to the skin. Snape cursed to himself; he must have given the spell a little too much force, as the gush of water that was expelled from the wand-tip had practically knocked the unsuspecting girl over. However, he couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his features, "Next time, you might want to open your mouth a bit."

Hermione was not impressed with the witty remark. Soaking wet and in shock, she had only one suitable reaction in mind. She sprung up from her prone position, and launched herself at the amused Potions Master.

Snape was not feeling quite so amused when the next moment found him flattened against the floor on his back, the breath knocked out of him by the small witch straddling him. However, when she tried to knock some sense into him, his mirth returned full-throttle. Her flailing fists lacked direction and power, and it didn't take much effort on his part to stop her assault on his chest. Grabbing Hermione's wrists, Snape chuckled lightly:

"All right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you all wet! Think I put a bit too much effort into that charm – that's all. Please," he had to restrain her fists again, "stop trying to hit me."

Breathing hard with dissipating anger, Hermione abandoned her attempts at physical harm, and settled for just getting her breath back. She was also acutely aware of the awkward situation she now found herself in; she obviously had learned nothing from the night before. Here she was, straddling Snape, her hands still in his grasp, and her damp wet robes were not helping.

Snape too was thinking along a similar vein. The confusion had left him breathless, though now he wasn't sure that he could blame his heart-rate entirely on shock. After their escapades last night, he thought he had learnt his lesson – why was it that she this power over him? Never before had he seen anything quite so sexy; she was wet, dishevelled and flushed, resting comfortably on his hips, with those damp robes doing nothing to hide her figure or tiny bumps of her nipples.

The urge to kiss her was almost irresistible, and Snape wasn't too sure how long he could restrain himself. Hermione found a warm need rising in her stomach, as she gazed down into his obsidian eyes. Unconsciously she leant forwards, so that her face hovered a foot above his. She didn't notice the drip of water run down her nose, until it fell with a soft 'plop' onto his cheek. She somehow found herself bending down to his face, and lightly licking the droplet off his skin, tasting the saltiness of his sweat mixed in with the water.

At this action, Snape stopped breathing; never had he found something so simple, so erotic. It had been a long time since any woman had willingly touched his face, let alone lick it. Not wanting to move, lest he disturb this wonderful girl, he closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his breathing.

Hermione's movement caused two more drops to adorn his features, and she sought them out with no hesitation. First she leant down to a droplet on the tip of his aquiline nose, sealing he lips around it and gently sucking the moisture up. The second water-drop had landed on Snape's upper lip, and Hermione stopped for the first time to consider her position. While one side of her mind argued that this was a huge mistake, and very wrong, the other louder voices encouraged her. _Well_ she thought, _in for a knut in for a galleon, I guess. Anyway, for the past couple of months, I've dreamt of doing much worse things than this. _She grinned to herself as she slowly lowered her lips to his, _I'll admit that I like him and I want him, so here goes nothing..._

Snape's eyes shot open as her lips touched his. It was like an electric shock passing through him at their point of contact. He felt as though he was in heaven, or at least some alternate reality; pretty girls did not suddenly fall for ugly potions masters, neither was this girl under the influence of alcohol or the _Imperio_ curse. Relaxing into her simple touch, Snape at last closed his eyes and decided to go with the flow.

The only thing that concerned him was how far he would let her go before his barely restrained passion was unleashed. He didn't want to rush anything, but when he felt her tongue sweep against his lower lip, begging entrance, something inside of him snapped. He opened his mouth wide against hers, feeling her lips mirroring his as they slid against each other.

As the last of his restraint vanished, Snape pulled down hard on her wrists, forcing her damp body to lie flush with his, at the same time plunging his tongue into her mouth. He felt her hands entangle themselves in his shoulder-length black hair, as their tongues danced together, as though engaged in some furious battle. He released one of her wrists, and used his spare hand to explore her back, running it down from the nape of her neck, along her spine, and eventually coming to rest on the rounded cheek of her bum.

Hermione shivered and moaned softly, as the sensations she felt expressed themselves verbally. Snape felt the vibrations through his tongue, and they released some primal instinct inside of him. No longer content to feel her lying placidly on top of him, he rolled them both over in one motion, resting his weight on her. From this new angle, he could express his passion more thoroughly; he ravaged her mouth, exploring every corner, hungry for her taste. His hands slid down her side as he sought out every new curve and dip in her figure.

Wriggling under him, Hermione kissed him back with a fierce passion, moving her hands to his shoulders, pulling him even closer to her. When his hand slipped between their bodies, he found the curved hillock of her breast, and ran an exploratory thumb over her nipple, Hermione groaned into his mouth. Encouraged, Snape concentrated on the raised bump, feeling it easily thought the damp robes. Dazed by passion, it crossed Hermione's mind that she was actually being groped by her Potions Professor; but somewhere along the line, she had come to the decision that this was in fact, a welcome action. If she was felt easy or promiscuous, she didn't care, all she cared about was here and now, and this man lying on top of her.

So she wriggled her hips a little more, and allowed him to further his explorations. Wanting to take her all in, in case he never got another chance, Snape tried his luck, venturing his hand a bit further south. When Hermione felt his palm brush against her nether regions, she squeaked, and quickly slid out from under him. _That was unexpected_ she thought wildly, _I'm not sure if I want to go there quite yet_.

Not knowing what to say to the stunned Snape, Hermione did the only thing that made sense. "Bathroom," she burst out, before turning tail and running to the door he had indicated earlier.

To her relief, the door opened smoothly, and Hermione fell into the biggest bathroom she had ever seen. She spent only a moment taking in the Olympic-sized bath, shining black tiles, and huge ornate mirror, before dashing over to the sink. Running the cold tap, she splashed copious amounts of cold water in her face, trying to force some rational thought into her head. She looked up into the mirror, and saw her bedraggled and flushed appearance staring back,

"Bad day, dear?"

Hermione had not bargained on the mirror being able to speak, and she stepped back hastily. She didn't notice the small puddle on the shiny black tiles.

The next thing Severus Snape heard was a shriek and a muffled _**THUMP**_.

Jumping up, he flew to the bathroom; entering the room, he looked down and saw Hermione.

She lay on the floor, pale and soaked through.

He saw the rapidly spreading puddle next to her head.

It was crimson.

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**Oh I'm evil – I love cliffhangers. You'll have to wait in suspense for next chapter. Will try and update soon. **

**R & R...**


	8. Notes

**A Levels almost over, but been so busy revising for them these past weeks – hope this update makes up for it :D**

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Snape was lying on the hard floor, breathing hard and cursing his forwardness, when he heard the thud. Springing up like a snake on hot coals, he launched his body towards the bathroom in a reasonable imitation of an out-of-control bludger. Bursting through the half-open door, he took in the scene.

The stark white light of a glowing globe mounted on one wall cast harsh shadows across Hermione. Her body was lying awkwardly on shining tiles; she lay on her back with one arm tucked behind her at an odd angle, her opposite leg was bent right back under her. What worried him most was the gradually spreading puddle originating from her head; it glowed an eerie crimson in the light.

Bending down to her he hovered over her face, assessing if she was still breathing. She was; he sighed with relief – Hermione was unconscious, with a hopefully minor head injury and what looked like sprains or breaks to her leg and arm – but at least she was still alive. He quickly stood and exited the room; scanning the store-cupboard for what he needed, Snape spotted a couple of boxes and an old sheet.

"That will have to suffice for the present," he muttered to himself, and so doing he flicked his wand and transfigured the boxes into a large sturdy bed. He then turned his attention to the sheet, and with a second wave, the mouldy grey cloth had morphed into soft bed linen, complete with mattress. Snape let a small fleeting smile cross his face; he knew that what he had just done required both spontaneity and fairly complex magic - Severus Snape took pride in what he did.

Turning from the bed he walked swiftly back over to the bathroom and Hermione's prone body. Muttering "_Wingardium Leviosa_" he flicked his wand in the girl's direction and her body rose to shoulder height; keeping an eye on her head, lest it knock against the doorframe or a shelf, Snape managed with great difficulty to hover her out of the bathroom. When he growled the counter-charm he caught her shoulders, attempting to stand her upright. In this fixed position, he once more produced his wand, murmuring "_Mobilicorpus_", and Hermione's unconscious body seemed to stand of its own accord; Snape was careful not to put any pressure on a potentially broken leg.

This gave him free reign to give her head and body a thorough medical assessment; as he began his attentions on her skull, Snape was clinical and calm. He had been trained for situations like these – he was skilled at blocking out emotion and concentrating only on the task in hand. Potions making required patience and focus; if the he let his concentration lapse for two seconds, he could easily miscount the stirs, or forget to add an ingredient. Snape was right when he told his first-years that the subject was "precise". Grimly in the back of his mind he also conceded that his Death Eater duties required a lot of focus; if he let one detail slip, he could easily betray both the Order and his double-agent status, to the ruin of all. He sighed, as he felt the burden of responsibility and of his double-life lie heavily on his shoulders.

"Come on boy, concentrate." He forced his mind back to the task in hand. Parting Hermione's hair he noted that it was sticky with half-dry blood, and a cold hand of fear seemed to grip at his chest. Shaking off the feeling of panic, Snape continued to feel around for the wound; he soon found it – a deep gash just behind her right ear. Pulling out his wand, he softly intoned the words for a binding spell, and watched as the sides of the wound knit together. Satisfied with his work, Snape moved his attention elsewhere.

He allowed his fingers to slide their way down Hermione's right arm, feeling for any lumps or bumps under the skin. He immediately noted the loose crunch of bone in her wrist; he sighed, she must have broken that joint in at least three places, if his medical knowledge was anything to go by. Snape first tried '_Episkey'_, a charm designed to repair minor injuries, although it may have healed some of the internal cuts caused by the jagged broken bone, it did nothing to mend the wrist. He would have to concoct a bone-mending potion, but there was not time for that now; Snape searched his mind for a quick-fix solution, settling on bandaging the wrist in conjunction with a splint. Taking a breath, he touched his wand to Hermione's wrist and muttered "_Ferula"_; he continued to concentrate on the incantation, as he saw white loops of bandages wrap themselves tightly around the joint.

Pleased with his work, Snape took only a moment to check over his first-aid skills before sinking to his knees to inspect Hermione's leg. He had to use one hand to hitch her skirt up just high enough to assess her ankle; and reprimanded himself as his focus slipped a notch. "This is no time to be fantasising, Severus," he grimly told himself, "Miss Granger is a student, and she needs your help - so banish those perverted thoughts from your mind and focus!" Trying to ignore how soft and warm her skin was, or how delectable the scent of her was at such close quarters. Again, Snape had to try and forget exactly which quarter of her he was close to at the moment – it wouldn't do to lose his cool again.

Shaking his head in an obvious attempt to clear his head, Snape once more bent down to examine her leg. After a few minutes and once more running his hand over her delicate ankle, he concluded that despite a small graze, there was no lasting damage. Healing the small injury with ease, he released her skirt, letting it hang down around her ankles. Snape groaned a little as he rose up into a standing position – the hard stone floor had not done his knees any favours.

Releasing Hermione from the hovering charm, Snape caught her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. Gently, so as not to aggravate her recently healed wounds, he lay her down on her back, with her bandaged wrist resting on her stomach. He muttered a slight warming charm on the sheets before drawing them up over her; it got very cold in the dungeons at night, as the stone floors and walls absorbed all the heat.

Satisfied that his patient was resting comfortably, Snape took to pacing around the small room in an attempt to clear his head. He needed to work out exactly what had happened in the last twenty-four hours; it had all happened in such a rush, that neither of them had had much chance to take it all in. He recalled charged emotions, illicit kisses and comfort in the dark. For once in his life, Severus Snape felt that he was losing a grip on his control; he never acted on impulse – always thought things through at least twice before acting on any decision. So what right had he to kiss Hermione Granger? _Well, she started it_ – a small part of him rebuked the thought. _Don't be so childish, Severus_, another part of him reasoned - _she was acting out of lust, not reason. Then you went and took advantage of her weakness – twice!_

_But the last time? That wasn't your fault – she kissed you._ Snape bit back the thought; she was merely a child, a teenage girl with raging hormones – she was acting on lust alone. _But you, you're her teacher_...

"Yes I know." Snape snapped out, unaware that he was voicing his feelings. "I'm her teacher, a responsible adult – I should know better. If I don't, where does that leave me?" He glanced across at the sleeping girl, "It's true what they say – I'm a greasy old bat." He sighed, "Now they can add 'perverted creep' to their list of insults..."

Stalking once more into the bathroom, Snape twisted the tap on, and splashed cold water over his face. Looking up into the mirror, he saw the gargoyle staring back at him. There was no chance in hell that Miss Granger, or any other woman should find him in the least bit attractive. His nose was hooked, his hair lank and shading his eyes like a black curtain, his sallow skin doing nothing to warm his features. His face was gaunt; his double-life led to many sleepless nights, leaving his skin looking ill and almost translucent; too many missed meals did not help either. He reflected that he should look younger: at thirty nine years of age, he looked like a wizard almost twice as old, his features creased by the weight of his burden and an almost permanent scowl. The silvery wisp of an old scar crossed one eyebrow; he remembered the curse that caused it and could recall the pain, but the mark was almost invisible now. His eyes did not twinkle, nor did a smile often cross his features; he noted with sadness that the brief fit of laughter earlier had actually caused his face to ache, so unused was it to such an action.

Turning away from the mirror, he cleared the remains of Hermione's blood from the floor with a quick cleansing charm, and swept back into the store-room. He glanced over at his sleeping companion, watching as her chest rose and fell with her gentle breathing. Her brow was smooth and free from the wrinkles of pain; though he knew that come morning, she would definitely feel the ache of her yet unhealed wrist. However, for that moment she looked serene; her face had relaxed and the anxiety and tension had left it peaceful, a small smile hovering on her lips. Those lips; Snape had a sudden flashback, and saw himself once again, bruising her mouth with his, pressing her body to his. He could almost feel her hot skin against his, and the catch in her breath as he had run his thumb over her nipple. He then thought about his hand traveling further south, how she had sprung up and ran...

The professor stopped where he was, and slid down the wall, sinking into a hunched huddle. He buried his head in his arms and groaned softly; whatever it was he thought he had felt - it was a lie. He was just a perverted old man who had taken advantage of his lovely young student. He dug his fingernails into the back of his hand as he though about how he had nearly let himself violate his innocent young charge. As he dragged his nails back up his arm, he felt them dig into his skin and bite with jagged scratches. The pain chastened him; and brought his thoughts back into focus. He deserved the pain, he thought grimly; if he could, he would have performed the Cruciatus Curse upon himself. How could he ever explain himself to Hermione when she woke up?

_Not Hermione_, he thought, _Miss Granger. That's her name – don't get personal Severus, never get personal._ Too many times he had seen the grief caused when Lord Voldemort's followers were sent on a raid; they had murdered whole families, raped young girls, tortured parents and children alike. He had promised himself long ago that he would never let anyone get too close; it would only result in death and misery for the both of them. He didn't expect to live out the next year; he was lucky to have survived relatively unharmed so far, he thought.

Whatever he thought he had felt for Miss Granger, he must have been imagining it. His lustful wanderings, he put down to desperation: it had been years since he had been with a woman; _not counting those you've been forced to violate_, he thought miserably. It seemed to him that he had wanted to risk it all on that one fumble – he did not expect there ever to be a repeat performance. _No-one makes the same mistake twice_, he thought, _not that she'd ever trust herself to be near me again after this anyway._

Sighing with deep remorse and resignation, Snape let his hand drop from his mauled arm. The blood on his fingertips was already becoming tacky as it dried, and his hand stuck to the folds of his cloak and became entangled there. Not bothering to move it, the professor felt the tension go from his hunched shoulders as he glanced once more at Hermione's prone form on the bed, before falling into an exhausted but uneasy slumber.

As he drifted off, Severus Snape blinked, and was surprised to find his sleeve damp with tears.

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**Hope you enjoyed this rather angsty installment; many thanks to all my reviewers:**

**mrsdan**, **DD2 **&** Divine.Animal.Crackers: **_hope you enjoy cliffhangers – there's gonna be plenty!_

**Puddytatt: **_I intend to keep it up – just need to find time – thanks for drum roll!_

**astarael013 **& **MaskOfComedy: ** _don't really intend to hurt Hermione – it just kinda happens – and is good plot line as it brings lots of comfort from Snape and hopefully will bring out a softer side in him soon!_

**outraged:**_ it will happen, I promise, just gonna work up to it._

**draegon-fire:**_ you may be right there! You'll have to wait and see – yes they did seem to be having fun :P_

**Joani-the-unique-being: **_hehe – maybe I just like playing with you readers!_

**DanniV: **_hope this chapter explains his forwardness! Thanks for support._

**Amanda: **_your wish is my command!_

**Chibeh: **_interesting enough for you? Thanks for the support!_


	9. Those Who Have Seen Your Face

**Two chapters so soon? Let's just say I was on a roll... plus felt guilty for not updating for so long!**

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"Mmpgh..."

Hermione awoke with a groan of some deep-seated pain. She blinked against the sudden glow of the candle-lantern, hanging from its hook on the wall above her; it felt like pins in her eyes, and was multiplied tenfold by the throbbing from the side of her head. She felt confused; _what happened last night? _She ran one explorative finger gingerly behind her right ear, and felt the raised bump of a recently healed wound: _Merlin that's sore! What on earth happened last night? Did Snape heal my wounds?_

Trying to sit up and seek out her rescuer, Hermione met another surge of pain, this time, in her arm. With much grimacing, she dragged herself up into a sitting position, resting against what seemed to be the headboard of a large bed. _Where did that come from? _Dismissing yet another question for later investigation, she concentrated on a more immediate problem: the pains shooting through her right wrist. On closer inspection, it appeared that Snape must have used a splint and bandage to support what was presumably a broken wrist; though, judging from the blinding pain and grating noise she heard when she prodded the area, the bones had not been healed.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you are correct in your estimable deductions." As though from nowhere Hermione heard that silky baritone she knew all too well. Startled she looked up and, at first, saw no-one; as her eyes became accustomed to the low light, she realised that Snape's black cloak, frock-coat and trousers allowed him to blend in with the darkened room. It was at times like these that his phantom-like reputation was well deserved; he seemed to be able to float between the shadows.

"Your wrist is broken in several places; you also have a wound behind your ear and a graze on your ankle which I have healed, though they may still be a little sore." Snape continued by giving her his full medical assessment of her condition. "I am currently in the process of brewing a potion that should mend your bones," Hermione revelled in the sound of his voice; the way his 'r' sounds slipped off his tongue. "Although I am afraid that you will have to put up with the pain for now; I haven't the correct ingredients to brew an anaesthetic potion."

Hermione now realised that she was staring at him, and quickly looked down, murmuring a "thank-you". He did not seem to notice her embarrassment however, and on stealing a quick glance at him, Hermione saw a kind of distance in his expression, as though he was not really seeing her at all. She was once again, puzzled, but decided that now was not the time for questions; for once, she knew when to keep her mouth closed.

Snape however continued, "I trust that you are comfortable enough for the moment; I have taken the liberty of preparing you some nourishment – I know it's a little meagre, but I hope that you will make the best of a bad situation." With this said, he indicated the small tray of food, and left her to return to the gently simmering cauldron in the corner of the room.

Hermione looked to her left and saw that Snape was right: there lay a tray with a small selection of grapes, bread-rolls and an apple, supplemented by a small slab of chocolate and some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. She grinned as she remembered how they had come upon such a stash; when her eyes flickered to the glass of water, the smile fell from her face. A flashback of the previous night hit her like a small tidal wave:

_Transfiguring food..._

_Hermione drenched with water... licking drops off Snape's face_

_Kissing him..._

_Feeling his hands..._

_Panic... Running... Falling..._

_Darkness..._

Hermione blinked in shock as she remembered the course of events; _oh Circe, what have I done!?_ Absently, she picked up the bread roll and began shredding it; she had to keep her hands busy while her brain took it all in. _Well, _she thought, _it was fine up until the time when he moved his hand down there... I mean, I... liked it._ Pondering the apparent sincerity of her last statement, Hermione was shocked to discover that, somewhere along the line, she was falling for Severus Snape. How deep her affections ran, she was not sure, but she just knew that there was... something there. She couldn't explain it, not just yet, but one thing she did know – she may have romanticised the idea of spontaneous lust a little too much: last night was definitely a step too far, too soon.

The thing to do, Hermione decided sagely, was to see how things panned out; _after all_, she thought wryly, _didn't he say that your abode at the present is pretty much nonnegotiable?_ It seemed that staying put was her only choice at the moment; so this gave the seventh-year a lot of time to establish some ground-rules, and try to find out a little more about the enigma that was, Severus Snape.

In contemplation, she ate her breakfast delicately, being careful not to nudge her wrist too much; she discovered just how hungry she was, as the tray of food rapidly disappeared. She used this quiet time to observe her potions master, who stood hunched over his potion in the corner of the room. He was still and focussed; she saw how his long fingers gripped his wand deftly, as he waved his wand smoothly over the potions surface. She knew that the potion he was brewing (a variation of Skele-Gro) was particularly complex, and required great force of mind: she boggled at his concentration – the brewing of the potion took close to five hours, and required almost constant attention, with a list of ingredients as long as her arm. She saw his long cloaked arm reach out to lift a jar off the shelf, and noticed that not once did his eyes leave the potion, as he continued to count the number of stirs. As he sprinkled the silvery powder into the cauldron, she saw his face illuminated by the fiery glow of the potion itself, and took the opportunity to study his features.

Yes, his nose was quite hooked, and his skin was sallow; but the latter could be easily fixed – she knew how much time Snape spent locked up in the dungeons, and could guess the effect that merely a few hours of sunshine could have on his pale features. His hair often fell over his face in a curtain like that, but she knew that the greasy appearance was most likely a result of the many hours spent standing like so, over a boiling cauldron. She also noted that, although his apparel was always black, there was never any sign of dandruff or spillages on his clothes; he evidently took pride in his appearance. Though she could not see them from her vantage point, she knew that his eyes were the most intriguing aspect of his face; those obsidian orbs could hold her and draw her in like nothing else she knew. She shivered as she remembered the previous evening, the captivating stare that had drawn her in, caused her to press her lips to his. She shuddered again, as she thought of the pleasure he had brought...

She had forgotten that she was still staring at him, so when Snape looked up at her through those tangled locks; she was caught off-guard. Jerking her eyes away from him in an instant, Hermione feigned a sudden interest in her now empty tray of food. Guiltily, she risked on more glance, and was surprised to find him now crossing over to her position on the bed. Determined not to give away her thoughts, she doggedly avoided his gaze, lest their 'connection' be awakened at a particularly inopportune moment.

"Hermi – Miss Granger?" The question startled her somewhat, something was definitely up – they were back to formal terms now, it seemed. Snape could have kicked himself – he had prepared his speech, but had not quite managed to bite back her given name; those hazel orbs of hers had put him off balance. _So much for being formal,_ he thought grimly, _come on Severus, get your act together. This isn't a game – you can't just go around groping students when you feel like it – you've got to be the responsible one; whatever your supposed 'feelings' you may have thought you had._

Gritting his teeth slightly, he tried again. "Miss Granger, I have your potion here. If you would care to drink it, then I assure you that your wrist will be fixed promptly." He handed her the phial of bubbling orange liquid. She lifted it to her lips, met his eyes, and tilted the tube, gulping the potion down in one swift motion. "It may taste fairly unpleasant, but I assure you its perfectly safe," Snape said as he noted her grimace. "There may be some unpleasant side-effects too," he added smoothly, almost as an after-thought.

Hermione then experienced a very odd set of sensations; firstly, she felt the potion burn its way down her throat, but when it reached her stomach, she found that an icy-wave spread its way throughout her entire body. It actually reached the point where she was so cold, she was quaking slightly where she sat; ready and waiting, Snape picked up her quilt and diligently wrapped it around her, trying desperately to ignore their close proximity. As soon as the shivering subsided, she was once again flushed with a burning heat; so extreme was this internal climate-change that she felt a sweat break out, and she fought to push the covers off her. Mopping her forehead with a damp cloth, Snape held the duvets closed around Hermione with his other hand. He knew that the burning sensation was only momentary, and that once she cooled down, she would lose heat very rapidly to the cool dungeon air. In an effort to stop her breaking free of her temporary bundle, Snape pulled her to his body and trapped her there, as she writhed in his grip.

After a minute or two, he felt the wriggling subside, and her body suddenly became as limp and pliable as a rag-doll. Sighing with relief, he released her from his now weakened hold, and lay her back down on the bed. Pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking her in tightly, he took a moment to survey his charge. Her body occasionally shivered with a spasm, as the potion spread through her veins in search of the injury. She would be unconscious for the next couple of hours, while the potion took effect; this at least would spare her the worst of the pain. Almost instinctively, his hand reached out to smooth her tangled and dampened curls from her face; his hand then moved down to cup her cheek in his large palm. He tilted his head as he looked at her, serene once more in her blissful trance; he knew that even touching her was a mistake, but she looked so vulnerable that he couldn't help himself.

With not even enough strength left in his body to issue a self-reprimand, Snape had barely enough energy to climb onto the mattress beside Hermione, before he fell forward onto the bed into an exhausted stupor. As soon as his head landed on the soft pillow, he was asleep; he didn't notice his arm which lay flung protectively over Hermione's prone form.

As another spasm caused Hermione to stir in her reverie, she turned over onto her side, snuggling up to Snape's chest.

Blissfully ignorant, they both slumbered on.

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**Though I should get some of Hermione's side of the fic in a bit more – shout out to all my wonderful reviewers!**

**PuddyTatt **& **MaskOfComedy:** _yea he sure is__ a bit of a thinker – you gotta feel sorry for the guy! It does seem a bit like one long tragedy of events – but I promise it will get better for him!_

**xriddikulusx:** _thanks for the support! Glad you're enjoying!_

**RagamuffinSundrop:** _many thanks – yeah, only got 3 exams left now (already done 8!) – then I can devote more time to my__ favourite__ fics!_

**Dranged691:** _Wow! That's one helluva review! Thanks for such detailed feedback – I know what you mean – I love PotO something chronic, and am obsessed with the film and soundtrack – I promise a lot more detailed references to that particular masterpiece sometime soon. With regards to fic – yeah, I wish I could update as often as that, and once I get exams outta the way, I may do! Until then – watch this space, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!_


	10. Why So Silent

**Finished exams at long last – but have been so busy celebrating that I fear I have neglected my loyal readers! Apologies – hope this makes up for it!**

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The constantly candlelit room was still; the two occupants lay in exhausted stupor on the low bed. As the small storage-cupboard had no windows, and therefore no natural light, it was impossible to tell what the time was from within. The days merged into nights, which then merged back into days, and the couple inside were none the wiser. The only noise to be heard was the soft sighs and snuffles of the pair's breathing; for such passionately vocal people, the room was indeed oddly quiet.

The peace did not last long however; Hermione wriggled in her sleep, falling into the deeper realms of dreams. Her breathy moan shattered the silence; she was having one of _those_ dreams.

_She was walking down a dark corridor, a passage that twisted and turned, bronzed brackets held aloft candles to light the way. The scenery was almost gothic in taste: gilded mirrors at the end of each twist, showing the path behind, the candles leaning down to her as she drew near._

_She was following him. Not stalking, but following. He knew she was there; he was leading her. She would sometimes catch the flicker of his dark coat, as he rounded a corner ahead. Always just out of reach, she sped up her walk to a jog, and then a run._

_He turned to her slightly as she drew closer, and she saw a flash of white on black. His mask almost seemed luminescent against the curtains of jet-black hair. His eyes were so black, and yet they seemed to glitter and spark in the almost pitch-black of the tunnel._

_She kept on running, holding the skirts of his dress high._

_The cloaked figure ducked around another corner_

_She sped around it and collided with him._

_He caught her in his arms, swiftly bending to tie the cords around her wrists. In one confused motion she felt control being swept from under her feet; her hands were drawn up into the air, tied above her head. All the lights were extinguished around her, except for a softly lit spot-light on herself. She could not turn, could not move; she was at his mercy._

_Shivers ran through her frame ash she felt gloved hands encircle her waist very slowly from behind. One finger traced a line up her side, and under her chin, the leather cool against her flushed skin. She could hear her breathing loud in the sudden silence, felt her heart race as his other hand slid up to cover her breast. Leaning her head back slightly, she felt the hands slide up her neck, dance over her temples, and bury themselves in her hair. She had never known such a gentle touch, such tender and knowing fingers. _

_Letting out a soft moan she felt one hand dip just beneath the low neck of her dress, sweeping lovingly over her breasts, with a simple but firm touch. The other hand in her hair tilted her head sideways, exposing her neck to him. She felt the warmth of his lips on his neck, as he branded her skin with the lightest of kisses. His lips left a butterfly-trail across her exposed skin, as though trying to mark her as his own. He never tried to speed up his actions, always careful and gentle with his touches. Hermione was melting from his deft but simple ministrations; she wanted nothing more but to press her body hard against his, to quench that aching thirst deep inside of her. But he was insistent, drawing her body to a slow, but very pleasurable state. Building on each touch with another, drawing out relaxed mewling noises from her with each kiss. He never touched her mouth, never went further down than her waist, and used nothing but his hands and mouth. She never even saw his face, but by Merlin, Hermione was more turned on than she had ever been._

_Desperate to sate this tension building inside of her, she uttered a simple command, between moans:_

"_Your mask – take it off"_

_She felt his hands leave her body with reluctance, as he came around to face her under the spot-light. Slipping the cool leather visor from his brow, she stared into his eyes, and knew his name at once._

Unconsciously Hermione uttered the name from her dreams in a deep groan:

"_Severus..._"

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Snape awoke with a start; he had been surfacing from a particularly nasty dream about cold high voices and bubbling cauldrons, when he felt something. There was something underneath his arm... and it was wriggling... violently. Cracking open one eye, he peered through the gloomy light at the disturbance. He was shocked to find that it was a certain Miss Granger; he remembered the night before and falling into a death-like sleep next to her, but how had his arm got there?

He stared at his pale forearm clutched in her grip, his robes and sleeve had been thrust aside as she gripped his scarred wrist. She had his arm in such a hold that he couldn't extract himself without waking her. _She needs the rest_ he thought desperately, _why shouldn't I just let her sleep on?_

His question was soon answered. Hermione appeared to be dreaming, and she must have thought that his arm was part of it, for she began to move it. Snape watched in shock, as she pressed his hand to her waist, before drawing it sensuously up her side and under her chin. He watched as she ran his limp fingers through her bushy mane of hair, before sliding it down her temples and across her cheeks. She brushed his fingers across her lips, and he felt the plump swell of warmth beneath his sensitive fingertips. He sighed softly, as he imagined how it would feel for her to allow him to do this to her in a conscious state of mind. He even closed his eyes slightly as he reveled in the sensation, allowing his imagination to wander.

It was then that he received a pleasant shock; Hermione slipped his fingers into her mouth, and sucked hard on them. It was so unexpected, that Snape actually gasped aloud in pleasure, his mind whirling. This pleasure only became greater as Hermione acted out what her dream-self longed to do to her masked-man. She flicked her tongue across his fingertips and sucked them further in to her warm, wet mouth.

Snape groaned at the sensation; all his senses were on fire at this simple, yet deliciously erotic act. In the height of her excitement, she cried out a word that shocked and delighted him.

"_Severus..._"

His mouth fell open at the sound of his name. It was there... on her lips... his name... his _given_ name... in her throes of passion. He couldn't help himself; it was like she was calling to him, and who was he to resist? Bending over her, he swiftly pressed his lips to hers, swallowing the last syllable of his name as it died on her lips.

His kiss was insistent, yet ever so gentle, his lips only just brushing over hers, before he added a little pressure and sealed them together. He did not attempt to deepen the kiss, or push his tongue past her lips; he simply wanted to feel her at her most relaxed. He wanted to taste the scent of her skin, burn the feel of her lips into his memory forever; their warmth, their softness, and the feel of hers on his. The fluttering movements of her body under his arm were like the wings of a butterfly against him, heavenly and soft.

Eventually, he had to break the connection between them, as he could no longer hold up his body on his other hand, and feared he might squash her otherwise. As he drew away, he stared down at her still sleeping form, and sighed. He had never seen anything more lovely; her hair was tousled from sleep and his hand, her lips plump and glistening from his kiss, a rosy blush glowing in her cheeks. He knew he was not deserving of any of this, but just for now, for tonight, he could pretend that she felt something for him.

In this protective bubble of sleep and a locked room, he could pretend - just for a moment - that she was his. However selfish that sounded, he could not regret it; though she would never want him in life, in sleep, she could give him the false hope that he yearned for. How many years had he been subservient to both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord; how many times had he risked life and limb for the cause; how long had he cast himself into loneliness. Just this once, he told himself, he deserved some small ray of hope in his life.

Staring down at Hermione, he realised that before him, lay his hope. This chattering, bushy-haired know-it-all had somehow worked her way through the darkness of his soul; she had reminded him that, underneath, there was still a heart beating its weakened rhythm against the dusty drum of emotion and love. It had been a long time since Severus Snape had felt the rush of blood through his body, or the racing of his pulse.

Stealing himself to it; he leant down once again and pressed one more tender and brief kiss to Hermione's lips. He closed his eyes, basking in the short sensation of light and hope, before he once more drew away into the lonely blackness of the room.

He never saw Hermione's eyes flicker open.

Or the grin that spread across her features as she awoke to his endearment.

He never saw the tear that glistened in her eye as he retreated once more into himself.

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**Thanks for the reviews guys – keep them coming – and I promise to update soon! I will pledge to make it longer next time – but I thought you might want this shorter one ASAP!**


	11. All I Ask Of You

**I promised to update ASAP – hope this is soon enough!**

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Hermione awoke first the next morning. It was a strange sensation, she thought, to wake up in a locked room in some sort of time bubble and on a bed with your Potions Master. Stranger still was the realisation that said teacher had his arm thrown across her, smiling slightly in his sleep. _Strange indeed_, her inner voice told her, _that I should wake up next to the very person I've been dreaming about for the last couple of weeks._

She could have pondered some more, absorbing the warmth of his arm as it lay across her stomach; but the calling of her full bladder was too much. As silently as possible, she extracted herself from Snape's grasp as she made for the bathroom. She was both amused and annoyed when, in sleepy confusion, he tried to pull her back down into the bed; it may be proof of his desire, but she desperately needed to go and relieve herself. Slipping a pillow under his arm, she left him with a replacement to snuggle, and practically ran to the bathroom.

When she had finished, she took the time to have a good look around. Considering the relative size of the potions-storeroom, this was a massive space; the bath was at least three metres wide and four or five metres across – it was also deep enough for her to stand in. In addition, a large enclosed shower stood in one corner; a deep sink and mirror in another, and a huge radiator was against the far wall, with piles of soft towels surrounding it. Towels that, she noted with a wry grin, came in two colours only: dark green and black.

Having surveyed the room at last, Hermione decided on an impulse, that she should take advantage of the chance and grab a quick bath. She shut the door, but was slightly surprised to discover that it had no lock. _But then again,_ she reasoned, _why would he need to lock his private bathroom? It's not like he gets interrupted down here, or he ever expects company_. She couldn't imagine Severus Snape inviting anyone to join in his personal bathroom, though she herself flushed slightly at the thought.

However, decision made, she soon became distracted by the bath itself; it was much like the Prefect's bathroom in the Gryffindor Tower, only better. Gone were the garish watercolours of mermaids and enchanted marine creatures; the bath was a shiny onyx piece, and the bathroom tastefully simple and elegant. One side of the huge tub was taken up with what seemed like a hundred different taps; Hermione knew these to contain different scents, colours, bubble-bath, salts, and oils – whatever the heart desired. Walking over to the taps, she turned a few experimentally before deciding on some blue muscle-relaxation salts, and a curious shimmering stream of pearly water that seemed to glitter with hidden light. Stripping off her clothes, she folded them neatly in a corner and laid her wand on top of them; making sure it was within easy reach.

Wincing slightly as her recently healed wrist took her weight, she swung herself gracefully into the now knee-deep waters of the steaming bath. She waded to the ledge at one end of the bath, and sat, waiting for the tub to fill up. This also gave her some time to check her injuries: the cut behind her ear and on her skull were fully healed and painless; the graze on her ankle too had healed well. Although her wrist still ached slightly, she knew that Snape's potion had done the job; the joint was no longer shattered, but the bruising around the break would last for a few days. She took another minute to critically assess her body, noting how even a few days stuck down here had paled her skin, and that her ribs could almost be seen through her thin stomach. _I really must take more care of myself, _she thought, and made a silent promise to eat more. _It wouldn't do to go and faint on Snape again_, she grinned a little.

Looking up, she saw that the bath had almost completely filled; she had been too distracted to notice it rising around her ankles. Lowering her body into the hot, shimmering water, she let out a sigh of pure contentment. Needing to stretch her cramped muscles, she swam a few lengths of the pool before coming to rest on a submerged ledge at one end of the bath. The water lapped around her neck, and closing her eyes, she leant back against the tub, taking a deep breath.

It truly was heavenly; she could feel the dissolved salts in the water as they worked to relieve the tension in her aching muscles. She hadn't realised quite how tense she had been. _Must be all those accidents, and Snape's ever-changing moods_, she decided.

"All I need now is a massage," Hermione sighed, not recognising that she had voiced this thought.

"Well, I can certainly see to that," said a deep voice behind her.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie and sat bolt-upright, flinging her hands across her chest to hide her modesty. In her confusion, she slipped promptly off her ledge and slid under the water.

Seeing her distress, the owner of the deep voice flung of his billowing robes and vaulted into the tub. Taking a deep breath, he ducked under the water and reached around wildly for Hermione's body. He dove a little deeper, before he finally made contact with her hand. Grasping it tightly, he pushed up to the surface, dragging her with him. As they surfaced, Snape trod water as he held a spluttering and bedraggled Hermione to him. She was fine, if not a little shocked, having swallowed minimal amounts of water.

Despite himself, Snape couldn't help but notice her sincere lack of apparel; trying not to look at her body, he allowed her to rest against the side of the tub, whilst he divested himself of his shirt. Throwing it to her, he turned his back, while she shrugged the large top on.

"Thanks," she spluttered.

He wasn't sure if she meant the shirt or the rescue, and just shrugged.

"I owe you an apology Miss Granger," he declared in his low tones. "I should not have surprised you... or offered you a massage..." he added as a second thought. "It was most inappropriate. Now that your safety and modesty are assured, I will leave you in peace."

He made to clamber back out of the steaming tub. Having only just made it to the side, he felt a hand on his - now bare - back, and turned around.

"No, don't go," her hazel eyes implored him. "You just gave me a fright – that's all." He then saw her blush deeply as she continued in a whisper, "I wouldn't mind a massage – if you're still offering, that is..." She trailed off, looking highly embarrassed.

Snape was stunned; he hadn't actually expected her to say yes. He had entered the bathroom a few minutes ago to partake in a quick wash and had accidentally stumbled upon his confinement-companion in the act of bathing. When she had murmured that comment about needing a massage, he hadn't been quick enough to swallow back his comment. _Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut?_ Snape gritted his teeth; _this is NOT a GAME, Severus. What on Jupiter are you playing at by offering your seventh-year student a massage? Circe help you... if Dumbledore even found out what you were thinking..._

Unable to prolong ignoring the girl for much longer, Snape turned round in the neck-deep water to look at Hermione. He saw that she too felt self-conscious about their situation, if the deep blush in her cheeks was anything to go by. He opened his mouth to answer her, but unable to come up with a suitable reply, quickly shut it again. On seeing his speech failure, Hermione plucked up the courage to continue, avoiding his eyes as she spoke.

"Don't worry – it's fine. I'm sure the bath salts will be just fine. I'm sorry for putting you in..." she looked up at him from under her lashes, "...such an awkward situation." She finished lamely; _well, what else could I say?_ She thought madly – _the brightest girl in Gryffindor and you couldn't even come up with a decent apology? Merlin knows this is about as embarrassing as it gets, but that is no excuse to lose your tongue, Granger!_

She was about to speak again, when Snape interrupted her.

"No, it's me who owes you an apology, Miss Granger. I shouldn't have scared you like that – although I cannot express regret for having saved your life." The last remark was emphasised with a wry grin. "In answer to your previous question," he continued when he saw her mouth open again in protest, "Yes, I am still offering." _Where in the name of all things magical did that come from? What are you DOING?_ Snape looked as shocked at his remark as Hermione did.

Feeling he should continue as if the situation were perfectly normal, Snape carried on.

"You may find that I am out of practice, due to the fact that I have no-one to... err..." he paused, "...practice on? At any rate, my method may be a little rusty, and I am sorry for that." Before Hermione had time to convince him that, rusty or not, she appreciated the offer, he barked out a command.

"Turn around, Miss Granger."

She stared at him for a moment, and he rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Well, how am I to proceed if I am facing you? I believe it is your shoulders and upper back that I require access to."

Slowly, Hermione spun around in the water, and made for the side of the tub. Leaning against it, she looked back at him with an explanation.

"Well, you may be tall enough to be able to stand on the bottom of the bath, but as I am considerably shorter in stature, I need something to hang on to." She raised one eyebrow at his expression, "Unless you want me to nearly drown again?"

Ignoring the rhetorical question, Snape waded over to the side, flexing his hands and wrists in preparation.

"Alright, Miss Granger, please remove your shirt." He mumbled this slightly, stumbling over the words.

"What?" She looked back at him startled, her face a curious mixture of shock and... was that possibly desire? Shaking his head at such a notion, Snape rolled his eyes again.

"Well, if you insist on having a massage, I need to be able to reach your skin; having clothing on will completely detract from the relaxing sensation." He checked her reaction, "I am not going to look at you, Miss Granger, believe me."

Still slightly suspicious, Hermione went with her instinct and shrugged his shirt back off, resting it on the side of the tub. The next thing she felt was Snape's hands on her bare shoulders and she reveled in the feeling; her skin tingled at his touch, and it felt as if the warmth of his hands was coursing through her body. As he rolled his fingers tenderly but firmly over her shoulders, squeezing them, she let her head roll back and let out a sigh of pleasure. Snape tried desperately to ignore the sound, hoping fervently that she wouldn't _affect_ him too much. Her voice startled him out of his thoughts:

"Where on Ganymede did you learn how to – ah –do this?" Her words were punctuated by a small moan as he probed the pressure points on her upper back, and she shivered deliciously.

Feeling that conversation would serve as ample distraction from his current illicit thoughts, Snape answered honestly. "Well... I have only ever performed this on myself before now..." he stalled, before collecting his mind together, "When Volde-... I mean, the Dark Lord, summons me, he often decides that torture is a suitable form of amusement." He stared down at the back of her neck, before continuing grimly, "The Cruciatus Curse has often served him well as a source of punishment and torture, and he frequently uses it even on his followers." He paused again, knowing that Hermione knew of his alleged alliance with the Death Eaters, "Upon returning from a summoning, I therefore used to find myself wracked with pain and shuddering spasms that would last for hours, even days, after the Curse had been performed. One day, at Dumbledore's advice, I stumbled across a spell that allowed me to bewitch objects to massage the affected areas. This proved highly successful in releasing the tension from my tortured muscles, and thus I learned a little about the art of massage."

He finished with an unreadable expression, letting the silence hang in the air as he waited for Hermione's rebuke. When it did not come, Snape felt the stirrings of worry inside him; what if she thought him deserving of such a punishment, or if she thought it merely a pathetic excuse for him to try and feel her up. Apprehension and insecurities were beginning to flood his mind, when Hermione turned round in his arms to face him. One look at her face told him that his worries were ill-placed; this was not the accusatory stare he had feared – her expressions showed only pity and compassion.

He barely had time to take it all in before his vision became obscured by a small tidal wave, as Hermione flung herself at him, throwing her arms about his neck and burying her head on his chest. So unexpected was this turn of events, that Snape was nearly thrown backwards into the water, Granger and all. However, he managed to keep his footing, and merely held on to the sobbing girl as she held onto him with a death-like grip. It seemed natural to him to reach out both arms and pull her closer to him in an awkward hug; running his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner. He even bent his head down to hers, and muttered comforting words into her damp hair.

After a few minutes, he felt her sobbing abate slowly, and Hermione drew back from his bare chest to stare up at him, tears still fresh in her round, chocolate eyes. Still sniffing, she spoke.

"I never knew..._sniff_... I mean..._sniff_... you never said anything..._sniff_... all those times in class when you winced at sudden movements or..._sniff_... when you had a perpetual pained look..."

"Yes Hermione, they were probably the result of injuries inflicted by the Dark Lord," Snape let an ugly expression cross his face at the memories. Inside, he was feeling a little confused; how much attention had she been paying him? Was it just her being nosey? Or did she have genuine concern for his welfare? The latter thought gave him, for an instant, a small stab of hope.

"Oh Merlin, that's awful..._sniff_... How did you ever stand it?" She looked up at him, concern flashing in her eyes.

"I merely had to endure it," he stated blandly, "There are no other options. Dumbledore needed information, and had I given the game away, I could have been killed... or worse..." he muttered darkly.

Not wanting to ask about punishments worse than death, Hermione settled for another bout of sobbing, and once more buried her head into his bare chest.

Looking down at her small form huddled up against his, Snape merely sighed, and held her close. The situation was so intensely intimate, that his heart gave a pang; he couldn't explain it. Recommencing the soothing motions of his hands, Snape held her closer, wishing that he could have done so in happier circumstances.

Looking down at her again, Snape for the first time seemed to realise their precarious position; although he was only naked from the waist up, it seemed that Hermione had not a stitch of clothing on her. Pressed up to him as she was, he thought that he could feel her heartbeat speed up, as her chest was held to his in such an intimate manner. Despite himself, he then began to notice the swell of her breasts, and the tiny pebbles of her nipples pressed up close to him. Trying to distract himself with a newfound desperation, Snape ran through his head the list of ingredients in a Strengthening Solution.

_Salamander blood... Newts' eyes..._

He could feel the unfamiliar sensation of arousal flood his body...

_Dragons' fangs... Rats' tails..._

All the blood in his body seemed to be draining to his groin...

_Essence of Hellebore..._

It was no use. He froze, helpless, as he felt the lump in his trousers grow steadily. He couldn't even remember the last time he had felt excited in that way... nor did he seem to remember it being so painful. Glancing down at Hermione, he knew it would only be a matter of time before she noticed it too. Trying to avoid such a dilemma, he used all his subtlety in a huge effort to move her out of range, pushing her lower body slowly away from his.

His eyes flew wide in shock when she ignored all his effort and clung to him even tighter. He was unable to suppress the groan, as she unknowingly rubbed against him, trying to entangle herself further in his arms.

He knew she must have felt it too, for she uttered a surprised "Oh!" and ceased her movements.

Time stretched out ahead of them, as if it was an endless moment in which they were trapped. The stillness only broke when Hermione gazed up into his expression, and seeing the horror written all over his face, uttered the words that once more, threw him for a loop.

"How are we going to take care of that?"

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**Mwahaha – Oh I do love cliff-hangers! Hope this longer chapter makes up for severe lack of updates in recent weeks!**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed:**

**LBpunkrock722**, **Kittic**, **mrsdan**, **Amanda** & **Elisandra1**: _thanks for support – glad you all enjoyed last chapter and hope this one does the story justice!_

**draegon-fire**: _Glad you're enjoying it so much! Yes think exams were ok, and will let you all know results on August 17__th__! You may be onto something with your plot theories as well – love the reviews – keep them coming!_

**PuddyTatt**: _Sorry if it was a little confusing – it was rather a quick update just to tide you over – hope this chapter is better!_

**GiggleGinny**: _Isn't it just the most fantastic pairing? So proud to be the one who got you hooked! Phantom may be putting more of an appearance in as things pan out – you'll have to wait and see!_

**xridikulusx**: _I would have loved to have see his face too! I love it how writing and imagination can be so powerful though! Thanks for review!_

**MaskOfComedy**: _Hope this longer chapter will keep you happy for a while – I do intend to update more often soon! _

**As always – R & R!**


	12. Masquerade

**I ****don't know if can finish this story in time before DH comes out (am gonna be out of country and laptop range from 11****th****-26****th****!!!!) and I don't want to rush it, but will give you as much story now as humanly possible! **

**Hope you would all still be interested in reading after Snape's make or break in Book 7!!!**

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Snape found himself unable to respond, and merely stood there, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with shock. Gulping, he opened and shut his mouth a couple of times in an attempt to gather his wits and form some sort of coherent answer.

"Wha-... how... wha-...?" _Pathetic! Has common sense abandoned you completely, man?_ His inner voice berated him, yet he was still too gob-smacked to come up with anything sufficiently comprehendible.

Hermione looked up at him with a decent facade of innocence on her features, choosing not to answer his spluttered remarks in so many words. Instead, she acted on them.

Snape's eye rolled back and he shivered violently as she briefly rubbed her lower body against his. This time it was no accident; she knew what she was doing, and he knew it too. This did nothing to answer his intended question however; it only threw him into deeper confusion. _What is she doing? Why?_ His mind raced as he tried to simultaneously assess her motives, and prevent her body from distracting him further. Grabbing her hips firmly, he stopped any future movements on her part.

"You still haven't answered my question, Severus." She was still looking up at his face, watching him closely. His heart gave a strange flip at the sound of his name on her lips, but again he managed to suppress the feeling; _it's not right to give myself false hope_, he thought miserably. Looking down at her again he managed a sad smile, and it was then that it hit him.

_Fwoop_

It was the oddest sensation, like falling through viscous potion whilst holding on to a port-key; and once more he found himself flailing as she delved into his mind, past his defences. He saw flashes of memories from the last couple of days:

_Curling up in a corner, Hermione in his arms..._

_Stooping to peer down at a comatose Hermione on the bathroom floor..._

_Sliding down the stone wall, his head in his hands, tears running silently down his face..._

_Guilt... desire... more guilt..._

Then suddenly his mind cleared, and he was back in the room; sound buzzed in his ears, and suddenly the bath and Hermione were once again bathed in glorious Technicolor. She was still however, staring up at him, though her eyes were now wide with understanding.

"You... feel?... something for me?"

Snape gave the smallest of nods, as cold fear washed over him. Hermione continued:

"Yet whenever you think of me you feel... guilty?"

He nodded glumly.

"Why?"

Hermione's question startled him, and he suddenly found his tongue.

"Do I really need to explain that to you, Hermione? I would have thought that for someone of your intelligence, it would be perfectly obvious." He stared at her in confusion, unable to comprehend why she needed to ask.

She simply raised an eyebrow; challenging him to answer.

"Firstly, there's the fairly significant fact that I am your teacher, and you, my student. Any such imaginations on my part are highly illicit and verge on paedophilic-"

Hermione interrupted him smoothly, "Professor, have you ever read 'Hogwarts, A History'?"

He looked taken aback, "Well, no I can't say-"

She continued swiftly, "Then you obviously haven't read of the many student-teacher affairs that have gone on since Hogwarts' opening. They are never encouraged, nor advised," she made sure to give him all the facts, "But if the student is of consenting age in the Wizarding world and the headmaster acknowledges that neither is taking advantage of their positions of power, a pairing can be allowed." She finished and looked up at him for his next reason.

"Well, er... that may be, but there are still good reasons for my guilt." Taken aback by both her knowledge and slightly uncharacteristic forwardness, Snape decided to plough on regardless.

"I am too old for you Hermione, too old by far. I have lead a disgraceful and lonely life; I am rude, selfish, and a Death Eater to boot."

She merely rolled her eyes at him, and sighed, appearing unconcerned. "You are only fourty-five years of age, and while I seem young, the Time-Turner I used in my third year has given me nearly an extra year's more maturity. I know that in the Muggle world, there may have been age-related issues, but in the Wizarding world a twenty year age difference is perfectly acceptable. Do you have any idea how much older Professor Dumbledore is than Professor McGonagall?"

She gave him a significant look and continued, "As for your temperament; we all have bad days, and having spent the past three days in your constant company, I now know for a fact that your bark is far worse than your bite. Do not underestimate yourself as pleasant company, Severus. I am also well aware that you were once a Death Eater – but you were so young; we all make mistakes. Your current position as a double-agent makes you far braver than many more popular witches and wizards; never underestimate yourself, Severus."

She looked at him hard, daring him to throw any of her words back at her. Knowing better, Snape merely continued to the next item on his list, trying to conceal the warm glow that was spreading inside him.

"Alright then, what about Mister Weasley?"

Looking slightly thrown by this question, Hermione swallowed down a spluttering giggle and answered bluntly: "What about him?"

Snape once again wore a mask of confusion, "I mean, what bout Mister Weasley? Where does he figure in all this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Severus. Ron is like a brother to me; how can you even imply that I might feel some romantic sentiment towards him?" Shaking her head slightly, she sighed, "It doesn't matter..."

"How can it not matter?" Snape was getting slightly irritated now, feeling his quick temper rising to the surface. "That young man has worshipped the very ground you walk on for the past year, and you're telling me that it doesn't matter? Yet you're quite happy to spend a morning soaking in a tub with your greasy, hook-nosed, sallow, bat of a Potions Master?"

Hermione too was at snapping point; _Merlin he is just too much sometimes. He can't see beyond the accusations of those immature and jealous school-friends of him; boy does this man know how to hold a grudge._ She knew from Harry of Snape's worst memory; Sirius Black and James Potter using Snape's own jinxes on him, embarrassing him in front of his peers and Lily. She had often wondered if he had cared for Lily; thus making his grudge all the worse to bear. She knew that she had to head him off quickly, as like Mrs Weasley, he tended to build up a head of steam; once he had got going, there was no stopping him.

Intervening quickly, she tried to settle the situation: "Please listen to me; I will say this once, and once only. Ron is my friend and nothing more. You are different." His heart seemed to hammer in his chest as she continued, "A good shampoo and some sunshine would soon loosen up your appearance, and your nose is not _that_ bad! You look fine... more than fine..." she took a deep breath, "Some might go as far as to say..." She trailed off, unable to pluck up the courage to say 'hot'.

He continued to gaze at her, mouth open once again, and this gave her the idea.

"Look, since I can't seem to tell you, I'll just have to show you." She muttered this quickly as if afraid she would lose her nerve.

Holding on to the arms that still held her hips still, she leaned up to Snape and pressed her lips to his. It was nothing like the kisses they had previously shared; she was not tired, giddy, confused or overcome by lust. Nor were there any exploding potions or illicit dreams to distract them. This was a kiss shared in the knowledge that Hermione could accept Snape for who he was; his doubts and fears set aside by her declaration of trust; the warm feeling inside them both.

She felt him finally kiss her back, unrestrained by anxious guilt, crushing his mouth against hers. When she felt him run his tongue against the seam of her lips, she opened them willingly, swallowing his groan as she ran her tongue over his. Twisting her head to get a better angle, she took the offensive, and pushed her lips even closer to his, opening and closing them as she mirrored his actions. Darting her tongue into his mouth, she was able to fully appreciate how good he tasted; like a rich dark wine on a summer's day.

She felt his hands begin to wander, as they trailed lazy circles down her back; the feeling wonderfully amplified by the lack of clothing; she could feel the heat of his fingers directly on her skin. She herself was busy twisting one hand in his dark, damp locks, using them to anchor herself to him. Her other hand reached down and settled on his bum, and she gave it a tentative squeeze. Again, he moaned into her mouth, and she felt it vibrate through her entire being.

Eventually they both had to come up for air, and she grudgingly pulled away. Both breathing hard they looked at each other, overcome with the sudden burst of emotion and action. When she shifted in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position, Hermione once again accidentally nudged the lump in Snape's trousers.

Whatever blood that had left his groin in the course of their argument, immediately began to rush back into the slightly deflated erection with this movement. Noting the low growl that ran through Snape's body, Hermione raised her eyes to his, and once more uttered the yet unanswered question.

"How are we going to take care of that?"

Looking up at him, she grinned wickedly.

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**Hah! Yes the cliffhanger seems similar, but how much has happened between them?**

**Love the reviews – keep them coming! **


	13. I Remember

**OK – trying to update as much as possible, since I have more time now. Hope it's getting more interesting by the second! I love all your reviews!**

**Question is; do you want it really long and possibly drawn out, or finished soon?**

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For the second time in ten minutes Snape found himself unable to utter a single word at her bold statement. This time however, the shock was mixed with a certain amount of anticipation, and he eagerly awaited her next move.

For all her bravado, Hermione was quaking with nerves; she had kissed only three people in her entire life – Snape included – and had in these sessions only gone as far as light groping. Of course she knew about the mechanics and anatomy of such things; she had gleaned a little inside information from Ginny's recent late-night recounts of her exploits with Harry. She had even spent a day last summer, holed up in her room at Grimmauld Place with Ginny, giggling at the Play Wizard magazines that Tonks had left lying around. These magazines were mostly filled with narrations of romantic trysts gone wrong, or the Agony Witch columns, but there were some more illicit entries. Flicking her mind back, Hermione once again saw before her the moving diagrams of Serena's Sensual Seduction and Foreplay article. She blushed deeply at the memory; although an extrovert in most things she did, there was still a shy and uncorrupted part of Hermione that cringed at such thoughts.

She raised her eyes once more to Snape's, and almost drew back at the eager anticipation and desire she saw sparking behind his eyes. It had suddenly dawned on her that there was some truth in Snape's reasoning; he _was_ much older. It wasn't his age that worried her, but his previous experience; how many women had stood here before him like this; how many had he looked at with those eyes, touched with those intimately gentle hands?

_Too few to mention, Hermione._

His voice came as though out of nowhere, and she jumped a little in his arms. For his part, Snape had been watching her closely as indecision, arousal and worry crossed her mind, and like the Slytherin he was, had decided to delve straight to the root of the problem. The sparkling lust slipped from his face as he entered her mind with ease. She was so distracted that she didn't even notice him slipping past her defenses until he was right inside of her.

_What do you mean?_

Hermione's mental voice was calmer than her physical one, so she allowed this internal conversation to continue.

_Just what I said, girl. My list of lovers – if you can call them that – is short and succinct._

She looked deep into his eyes, waiting for him to continue, intrigued.

_The only one I felt anything for was when I was at school. Lilly Potter._

Hermione gasped slightly, though she had already suspected as much.

_Yes, Lilly Potter. _

He looked grim, but pressed on, seeming like one who wished to clear his conscience.

_We were friends at school; always studying in the library together, talking about our work._

He raised a significant eyebrow at her, and she gave a small smile, noting at once the similarities.

_Then suddenly, in our fifth year, hormones struck. What had become a close friendship, suddenly escalated into something else__ entirely. I might go so far as to call it a brief fling; for brief it was. Fifth year was also the time when Potter and his little gang started to take an interest in her._

Hermione saw him frown at the memory.

_He was extremely good looking, Gryffindor's star quidditch player, and about as competitive as they come. It didn't take too long for his persisting attitude and inflated ego to wear her down; they went on their first date at the end of sixth year._

The last statement, even in Hermione's mind sounded blunt and final. There was not as much venom as she would have expected, but she supposed that Snape had had a good twenty five years to mull it over. He didn't sound angry, just sad, wistful and hurt. She reached out one hand and covered his with her smaller one; it was a simple gesture, but the look he gave her indicated that it was very much appreciated.

_The rest is history: they dated till they left school, married one year after that, and I was left alone and friendless. As Lilly went, she took all my conversation and laughter with her._

Hermione could only squeeze his hand harder as she watched the lone tear trickle unnoticed down his face, landing with a small _'splash'_ in the bath.

_It was then that Albus Dumbledore took me under his wing; __he knew that I was already integrating myself further into the Dark Arts, and saw it as his chance. I swore an oath to him in my seventh year, and when I left school I became irresistibly drawn into the crowd who were to become Death Eaters; but this was a false role. From the age of eighteen, I have been a spy and double-agent for Dumbledore and the Order._

She could practically feel the weight of responsibility inside her mind; it was like a niggling ache that refused to go away, the ever-present feeling that many lives lay in your hands, and that your own mortality was forfeit. She turned away, expecting for his tale to end there; but he went on:

_For the next twenty years we waited; knowing that he must return one day, and knowing that this time it was do or die. I gradually built up some trust among the Death Eaters, whilst __with the Order I helped to set our defenses in place. When he returned two years ago, I had to work hard to convince him that I was still loyal. Many a time I put my life on the line; and often it was difficult to accomplish his tasks designed to test our fidelity._

He grimaced, remembering.

_I had never gone very far with Lilly when I was at school, and so I was still very... inexperienced... when it came to Lord Voldemort's tasks.__.. In the past two years I have been forced to... rape... no fewer than four muggle-women... in order to keep my cover intact. The first time was..._

He trailed off, and looked glumly down at Hermione, as he withdrew his mind from hers.

"I can still hear their screams. They did not live long enough to suffer much after though."

Shuddering, he could feel the guilt and horror of his actions turn his blood icy cold. He looked away, unable to watch the revulsion and awful reality in Hermione's accusing eyes. Therefore he did not see that pity and compassion had suffused through all her other emotions. He only knew it when he felt her wrap her arms around his still body once more, and bury her shaking head in his chest, her sobs echoing in the darkened room.

He just held her once again, as he closed his eyes, and allowed the buried memories to once again rise to the surface. Too long he had kept them hidden, for too long they had gnawed away at his soul, infusing his body with guilt. Now that they were out in the open, he felt the weight on his shoulders lift slightly; _maybe a problem shared is a problem halved_, Snape mused quietly. Talking to Hermione had certainly done him some good; even if it had turned her into a shivering wreck at his expense.

At last he decided that speech was the only option.

"Look, I'm not proud of it, but that's what happened. I had no more control over it than you do over... the Weasley's hair colour."

She made a curious sobbing, snorting noise against his chest, and Snape took this as a signal to continue.

"But I am not that man; it is an act and my job as a spy. If I didn't do it, my life would be less than worthless. But I have to say this, Hermione; I have never felt this way about anyone since... Lilly."

Blinking through her tears, she looked back up at him, a weak smile on her lips.

"This is as foreign to me as it is to you, I dare say. I was a boy when I knew Lilly; we were both so innocent, and we never did anything to taint that. Although I have done many terrible things in my time, I have to admit this to you; I have never... made love... with anyone..."

She stared up at him, desire now tingeing the corners of her eyes. When he next spoke, she could hear the wonderment in his voice, as all his inhibitions dropped away; for the first time, he spoke for himself, not for Dumbledore or Voldemort, but with his own voice. His voice was not exactly hard, but Hermione could hear the firm insistence in his tone; he was imploring her to take the offensive and grab life by the horns.

"We are both strangers in the night, groping aimlessly for what we know to be right and true. But now we've found each other, and all that matters is here and now. Forget the past, Hermione. Here and now."

They both moved at the same time, lips crashing together, and eyes shut fast as they clung to each other in the swirling heat of the bath. For the next half an hour, they knew nothing of time or space, nothing of reality or hunger; they knew nothing but each other.

Whatever self-control they had been holding onto shattered like a dam, and once the flood-gates were open, there was no stopping the tide of emotion, lust and love that washed over them like a great wave. Hermione's hands were everywhere, running up and down Snape's back as she pressed him to her, trying to learn every curve and dip, every ridge of the scars that criss-crossed the planes of his skin. She wanted to touch, press and squeeze every inch of him she could reach, and dipped her hands down below his waist-band to ravage his bum.

Meanwhile, Snape was engaged in a similar task; whilst his mouth was occupied with savouring hers, his hands were mapping out her body and trying to brand it into his memory. His hands slid over her exposed shoulders and neck, before sliding into the steaming water and down her body. His long reach allowed him to follow the curve of her breasts, waist and hips before firmly grabbing her bum and crushing her to him.

As she felt him pull his mouth away from hers, Hermione let out a longing moan, which was soon to be replaced by a whimpering groan as he applied teeth and lips to her neck. He kissed and suckled on every inch of skin available to him in a bid to find the spots that made her whimper. When he nipped at a patch of skin just above her collar-bone, he felt he sensuous body writhe against him in the sudsy water, and she mewled softly. When his mouth hovered over her breast and he darted out a tongue to the erect nipple, she groaned loudly and clutched at his back with balled fists. But when his mouth descended to suckle hard on her, she gave a wild cry and bucked fiercely against his hips. Thinking that she could not possibly become more aroused, he moved to the other breast, leaving his finger and thumb to continue their ministrations on its partner. He once again lowered his hot mouth to her pebble-like teat and sucked hard on it, nipping the tip gently with his teeth. He hadn't expected such a violent reaction; Hermione let out her loudest cry yet, and shuddered against him, pawing at his back with her fists.

"_Sev...er...USSSSSSSS...!_"

She could feel pleasure thumping through her veins as his mouth on her nipple took her to a new level of sensation. The feeling was so intense that it was almost painful, but she felt herself climbing higher and higher as he continued to bite and suck on her sensitive skin. Then all at once, the world seemed to explode around her and light flashed bright as lightening in front of her eyes. Her entire being seemed to crackle with sparks of pleasure and fulfillment.

Snape drew away, entranced, and just stared as her body seemed to come alive with some hidden energy; her skin seemed to ripple with some electrical force just below the surface. Never had he heard of or seen anything like this before; the entire room seemed to flash with light and sparks as her cry reached its pinnacle. The sound of his name on her lips was like nourishment to a starving man, and his heart leapt in his chest as he recognised the need and desire in that cry. She wanted him, beyond a shadow of a doubt; she wanted him, for who he was.

He couldn't help it; the conflicting flood of emotions inside of him just seemed to burst out. Before he knew it, the tears were running down his face, splashing as they rhythmically dropped into the water. For so many years he had been alone, friendless; but now he knew what it was like to be wanted, to have someone. He gulped, and sniffed some more as realisation hit him like a wayward broomstick; he had fallen for Hermione, beyond any doubt, and it seemed that she could at last reciprocate. He savoured the moment, showering blessings upon whoever had thought it fit to lock them in this room; allowing him at last to discover hope and warmth, the salvation of his cold and hardened existence.

Clinging onto him with weak arms, the girl looked up at him blearily, as her aching and satiated body slowly sank back down to earth and reality. She saw the tears, and knew that no words were needed; at last they understood each other.

Blinking down at her now alert form, Snape was surprised to find her looking guilty and biting her lip. Puzzlement overrode his confused emotions and he concentrated on her, raising a querying eyebrow.

Looking up at him, she furrowed her brow slightly as she replied to the unasked question.

"Well, it doesn't really seem fair; you deserve a turn too."

She did not need to embellish her point in so many words, but gave his lower regions a significant nod. Snape rolled his eyes, and let out a soft bark of laughter; he knew her penchant for equal rights, but was not eager to become the focus for a revamped version of S.P.E.W. – perhaps, the Society for the Protection of Snape's Welfare.

He was just about to point this out, when he felt something hit his chest.

_FLUMP!_

The next thing Severus Snape knew, he was pressed up against the wall of the bath-tub, and Hermione Granger was reaching for his belt buckle.

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**These chapters keep getting longer, and the cliffhangers get better!**** I might possibly spy some proper lemons on the horizon – or do mine eyes deceive me?**

**Thanks to all my reviewers, keep up the great work guys!**


	14. Magical Lasso

**Back after holidays – whoop! Don't worry, I'm still here with plenty of imagination and plot! On another note, Deathly Hallows? How cool?! (I'm not gonna give details in case you haven't read it yet) Let's just say that despite the canon, I have plenty of fanfics left in me to... correct... certain details? Keep an eye out for upcoming fics!**

**Now, back to the current tale...**

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Snape would have said something, but Hermione's unexpected attack had knocked all the breath out of him. All he could do was stare at her in helpless protest as clever hands quickly divested him of his belt, and began to tug at his trousers.

"Agghhhh-mmmppppphhh..."

His cry of pleasure as she pulled his trousers down over his sensitive shaft was muffled when Hermione sealed her lips over his in a fiery kiss. After the shock and confusion had somewhat dissipated, Snape replied to her embrace in the affirmative, pressing his lips so tightly to hers that they might have been glued together. They moved as the tide on a stormy sea; one twisting their head and backing up under the onslaught of such open passion, before taking advantage of their partner's brief lapse, and pushing forwards with equal force, momentarily dominating the other. Snape felt Hermione's tongue push past his eager lips, and responded in turn, twisting his mouth against the girl's and sliding his tongue, snake-like, over hers.

"Mmmmmmghhhh..."

Her moaned reply tingled on his lips, and seemed to course through his veins like burning electricity. Hermione pressed her body up to his, wanting to revel in the touch of skin on skin for the first time. She could feel the whole length of his wet body against her own smaller stature; her head came to his shoulder, and as a result, he was bent over to reach her mouth with his. His groin was currently pressed up against her stomach, and as her hands were otherwise occupied with his hair, she experimentally wriggled against him. The resulting groan both excited and scared her in equal measures. She could practically feel the evidence of his desire for her pulsing against her body, but at the same time, she felt intimidated.

However forward she seemed at times, Hermione was not sure just how much of that front was bravado. She couldn't deny that at times like this, she was forced to remember just how experienced and just how _male_, Snape really was. She was not sure that she could go through with what she had planned when she was not feeling like the one in control.

_There has to be a way,_ she mused to herself. _All I need is a little power to give me the confidence I need..._ And being the brightest witch of her age, it did not take Hermione Granger long to figure it out.

She continued her assault on Snape's mouth, whilst she allowed her mind and her left hand to wander slightly from the task in hand. Snape was too immersed in the kiss to notice that Hermione's hand had stopped tugging at his hair, and was currently engaged in a thorough search of his trouser pockets. Having undressed her companion ten minutes ago, Hermione found that his trousers were still floating alongside them, with his shirt and belt. It took only a minute or two to find what she was looking for.

Clutching her fingers around the hard length, she took only a few moments to prepare herself, before springing into action.

_SPLOOSH!_

_THHWWAAAAPPPPPPP!_

The sound of her hand exploding from the water barely had time to echo off the tiled walls, before Snape's hands made a curious thud as they were bound to the sides of the tub. Hermione drew away from his embrace quickly, ensuring that her spell was strong enough.

After the brief moment of shock, and then another moment to assess the situation, Snape turned to Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"Non-verbal spell? _Incarcerous_?"

His voice sounded laid back in his usual silky tones, but Hermione could definitely detect respect there too, and anticipated excitement that seemed to almost bubble over. Snape had to admit to himself, that he had never felt so turned on in his life. Not only had Hermione proved to be a more than average kisser, but she was willing to take control; she wanted to have power over him, and he was happy to let her.

Hermione grinned to herself, still holding the wand she had procured from Snape's pocket. She had been a little worried before: however proficient she had become at non-verbal spells last year, she hadn't been sure that she would be bale to concentrate enough to produce a strong spell; her companion was somewhat... distracting to say the least. Glancing at her work, she saw how the invisible ropes seemed to pin Snape's wrists against the sides of the bath, and that despite his initial struggling, they had held tight. At last, she decided that she had the edge she needed.

Still holding his wand in her hand, Hermione gave it a gentle flick and muttered '_Evanesco_'. The water levels around them seemed to drop slightly, and Snape looked down to see his cock emerging from the water. Then as suddenly as the water had started to vanish, it stopped; Snape's groin and Hermione's stomach were now visible above the water. Again Snape raised his eyebrow in her direction.

"I have to admit that I am impressed. You seem to have mastered the exact art of vanishing the precise amount of substance that you wish."

She blushed under his praise.

"Now then, what was it that you were planning to do to me?"

Hermione went even redder, as she had momentarily forgotten the reason for her actions, in the flush of her wandwork success. Biting her lip, she glanced down at his swollen member.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten. I just needed a plan."

He smirked at her as she stepped back towards him, almost chest to chest with him.

"How very... _slytherin_... of you, Miss Gr-"

But he was cut off mid-sentence when he felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through him. The words died in his throat, and heart almost stopped at the sight of Hermione Granger gripping his thighs, with her mouth wrapped around his cock. He groaned aloud as he tried to imprint that image in his memory forever.

With a Herculean effort, he forced himself to breathe again, as fainting would surely disrupt this wonderful witch and her attentions to his body. When he felt her hands exploring him, he almost lost it right there and then.

Hermione, for her part, had decided that the best option was to bite the bullet and just do it. When she lowered her head to his cock and heard his groan, she was instantly glad that she had bound him up. She knew that she was in control, and that she could pace the moment as she liked; dictating the action for once.

Having taken her first impressions of the hot shaft in her mouth, she decided to explore the other avenues of pleasure that Tonks' _Play Wizard _had described. Slowly withdrawing her mouth, she felt for his balls with her hands, cupping them and gently massaging the silky sacs, wondering at how they outer layer of skin slid smoothly over the inner. Glancing down at her, Snape gulped with renewed lust, _even now, she is still trying to learn?_, the curious intellectual inside Severus Snape was tuned on, and he felt himself getting harder still.

Hermione's explorations were gentle at first, massaging his balls, and touching every nook and flap of skin, before moving on to his shaft. She ran an experimental hand over the ridges and grooves of his cock, again noticing the silky smooth skin, and the way it seemed to pulse, red-hot under her touch. Once again lowering her mouth to him she experimented with her tongue. First, she ran once up and down the length of him, marveling at the noises he was producing above her. Then she flicked his tip very lightly with her tongue, as the magazine had suggested, and sucked gently on it, before ever so gently nipping him with her teeth.

"Gaahhhhhcccchhh!"

She heard him cry out in a strangled voice, hoarse with emotion and lust. Snape was now panting, trying to control the urge to thrust wildly into her mouth. Hermione's sensuous explorations may be educational for her, but they were doing nothing for his self-control. If she hadn't have put his hands out of action, he would by now have grabbed her head in an attempt to speed her movements up.

Sensing the torment that Snape seemed to be going through, Hermione decided that she had better finish the job before he pulled a muscle, or worse, trying to free himself from his magical bonds. With her mind set on the task in hand, she bent once more to concentrate on that most sensitive area of his body. She decided on a combination of movements; one hand cupped his balls, gently rolling them between her fingers; the other hand gripped his shaft, and moved up and down to meet her mouth wrapped around the other end. As she bobbed up and down, she remembered to change her direction once in a while, and occasionally swirl her tongue over him. She knew from their previous encounters, that surprise made the eventual pleasure all that much more intense.

Snape risked one more look down at her, but had to look away sharply before he lost all control; moaning loudly once more.

Speeding up her actions, Hermione could feel that he was close, so close to the edge. His cock seemed to almost burn her mouth and she could have sworn that she felt his balls shake as they seemed to boil up within.

At that moment it struck her just how intimate the situation was; they were naked in a bath together, and she had bound his wrists, leaving him completely open to her. She could have anything that she wanted from her, he was all hers. At this thought, she began to feel that slippery wetness between her thighs, and remembered how he had made her feel earlier. She wanted to return that pleasure; wanted him to feel that wonderful burst of fire inside.

She guessed he was near now, as she tasted something salty in her mouth; upon swirling her tongue once more against his tip, she felt another bead of liquid there. He was so close.

Above her, Snape appeared to be physically shaking with the effort to control himself. This witch was doing wonders to him, and he felt wave after pleasurable wave strike his body with the force of reality behind them. He couldn't believe it was actually happening; only a week ago, she had been a student in his class, antagonising him at every stage, and now, here she was wrapped around his cock, and bringing him previously unknown amounts of pleasure. He groaned once more at the thought.

"GAAAGGGGGGGHH... HER-MI-OH-NEEEEE..."

The sound of her name on his lips turned her on more than anything else had that evening. Even as she sucked on him, she let out a deep groan in reply to his. And then everything seemed to explode.

It was the groan that undid Severus Snape, it vibrated through him, triggering every pleasurable nerve and shattering his self-control. He let go, shut his eyes tightly, and felt himself explode into her mouth.

Hermione coughed and choked, so violent was his release. Swallowing what she could, she withdrew quickly, so as not accidentally bite his now soft cock. With his release, his arms were also liberated, and Snape had to hold himself up, while he rode out the intense flood waves of bliss.

Still shaking, he eventually opened his eyes, and saw Hermione, no longer coughing, but staring at him, biting her lip. He understood.

"That... was... brilliant..." he panted, his voice still husky. "Best... ever... never... felt... like... ever..."

Although slightly incomprehensible, Hermione understood; it was alright, she had done well. Enough to cause the usually vocal and sarcastic Potions Master to stutter and pant. Still biting her lip, she allowed her face to split into a wide grin.

Both leant forward at the same time, and Hermione found herself wrapped in Snape's embrace, both holding onto each other for support. They stood there in the waist-deep water and swayed together.

After only a few minutes, Hermione felt a sudden tiredness steal over her, and yawned audibly against Snape's chest. He drew back from her, and took in her exhaustion. Really, he decided, it had been quite a morning. _Maybe a little siesta is in order?_

Picking up his wand from the nearby shelf where Hermione had stowed it, he muttered something under his breath, and flicked his wand upwards. Hermione watched, as with a squeaky pop, a large inflatable airbed floated to the surface of the bath. Not even bothering to ask where it came from, she simply allowed Snape to first mount, and then assist her onto the floating island. He lay on his back, and wordlessly drew her to him; she stretched out across his body and allowed him to wrap his arms once more around her, pulling her into their most intimate embrace yet.

As sleep stole up on her, Hermione squeezed Snape's shoulder and muttered:

"Hope you enjoyed your _turn_."

She felt him chuckle softly, the vibrations traveling through her.

"More than you can ever know."

Then sleep finally claimed her, pulling her into an embrace as deep as her lover's, and she knew no more.

Tilting his head slightly, Snape bent forward gently and pressed his lips to her forehead, before he too succumbed to sleep.

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**Well I hope you enjoyed that – not exactly a lemon, but it's getting there ;P**

**Hope it makes up somewhat for my absence these past weeks – thank you for being so patient, my loyal readers xxx**

**R & R**


	15. Sleeping Buds Burst Into Bloom

**Since being away so much has happened these past weeks – my Nan died, various members of my family have been very ill, and my mum had to be operated on and had cancer (but is now fine). So please excuse the massive gap in between this chapter and the last. My apologies – but let us now pursue that flighty temptress****... adventure...**

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Blinking, as the soft glow of the bathroom filtered through his eyelids, Snape awoke to a strange scene. First of all, there was that strange rippling pattern of lights on the darkened ceiling; then the strange rubber inflatable he appeared to be lounging on; followed up by the fact that he was wearing only his birthday suit. Only when she snuffled softly in sleep, did the Potions Master become aware of the supine Hermione draped across his chest. _Your _naked _chest,_ a small voice reminded him.

Trying to ignore the voice, Snape shook himself a little and stretched into his vast and inky memory, casting around for his location and the reason. It took him only a second or two for him to realise that the reason itself was now unconsciously trailing its hand up his side, only to wrap itself more firmly around him. Smiling to himself, Snape allowed himself to relax, drinking in the glorious memories of a few hours earlier.

These happy ponderings however, were interrupted, when their protagonist shifted in her sleep. Snape felt a sudden spasm of pleasure shoot down his right leg, as Hermione sleepily moved her hip against his. Gone was the illusion of peaceful musing, and, as if from nowhere, a fiery and sudden lust appeared to take its place. Panting hard, he squeezed his eyes tight shut, and thought of anything to calm his unstable body: marking first-year essays; watching Slytherin be defeated by Gryffindor in Quidditch; Neville Longbottom's third miserable attempt at making Amortentia.

When Hermione snuggled further down onto him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, he knew all hope was lost. His heart was racing, his skin slightly damp as he broke into a flushed sweat, and his almost raging erection threatening to explode at any given moment. Having already cast around for helpful suggestions, the Potions Master had come to conclude that there was only one way out of this situation.

_Well,_ he thought, _desperate times call for desperate measures._

So, with a final deep breath and a quick prayer for future forgiveness, he wrapped one firm arm around Hermione Granger, rolled to one side, and took the plunge. Quite literally, in fact.

SSSPPPPLLLLLAAOOOOOOSSSSHHH!

They hit the water and were immediately plummeted to the bottom of the overly-large bath-tub. Still with a tight grip on Hermione, Snape found the bottom of the tub with his feet, and pushed for the surface. Having been prepared for this, he found that he was not too out of breath, nor too disorientated. As far as he could tell, his plan was working immensely well; his erection at least was deflating, and he allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction.

He glanced down at the coughing and spluttering girl in his arms, and noted that, despite her abrupt and unexpected dunking, Hermione seemed to be taking it quite stoically. That was up until-

_THUMP_

"A simple-"

_PUMPTH_

"-Wake up call-"

_THWAHK_

"-Would have done-"

_DUTHUMP_

"-Very nicely!"

Trying to avoid the well-aimed blows and another near drowning incident, Severus held her out at arms length, grinning a little sheepishly.

"Look, will you stop using me as target practice, and let me just explain?"

Once he was convinced that she had calmed down a little, he let go of her wrists, and swam over to a shallower stretch of tub. Still shaking wet locks of hair out of her eyes, Hermione followed suit.

"Ok then," she glared at him as they turned to face each other in shoulder-deep water, "What have you got to say for yourself? Is there any good reason that you decided to throw me off a raft, while still asleep, in water out of my depth?"

He had to bite his lip to suppress the laughter he felt rising in his chest; Hermione was losing the battle to look indignant and offended while she had dripping wet hair draped across her face.

"Alright, well..." he stuttered and stopped.

The effort not to laugh was made a lot easier all of a sudden; he honestly did not want to tell Hermione the real reason. Did he really want to admit that the reason he had rolled them so unceremoniously off the raft was because he was incapable of controlling his raging hormones? Wasn't that the reason he initiated the dip in the first place? So she wouldn't find out?

"Well?" Hermione was still indignant and by now quite red in the face.

"Um... I... uh..."

He felt the intrusion immediately, but could do nothing to stop it. She pushed through his mind with absurd ease, tracking down and touching on the memory of five minutes earlier. When she drew back, he noted the odd mixture of expressions on her face; it was shock, embarrassment, amusement and a little bit of lust.

"You pushed me off that inflatable because you were turned on and didn't want me to know?" It was now Hermione's turn to bite her lip; the urge to laugh was almost irresistible.

Snape just stood there, open-mouthed and gaping.

She couldn't stand it anymore; Hermione took one more long look at his stupefied countenance and burst out laughing.

"PP-HHHA!"

Snape just watched her in horror, as she was bent double by the uncontrollable mirth.

"Please explain, Miss Granger, just why you find this so funny." His tone was a tad icy and hurt.

Unable to summon the breath necessary for speech, Hermione just stared at him helplessly through streaming eyes.

"Miss Granger, if you don't answer me this second, I will ensure that you are punished until you do." His voice was still stern, but with a light note of playfulness to it.

Still attempting to breathe normally and control the laughter that racked her body and made her every rib ache, Hermione was in no position to answer him.

If he'd had them the professor would have rolled up his sleeves; but given their predicament, he would have to do without them.

"Right then Miss Granger, punishment it is."

And without another word, he swooped down on her and grabbed her waist with one swift motion. His other hand meanwhile was busy tickling her; fingers scrabbling at her ribs and the back of her neck. There was no mercy.

Now shrieking with laughter, Hermione writhed and kicked to get out of his grip, her flailing arms occasionally trying to thump some sense into her companion. But Snape was relentless; he knew that she had been jesting, and took it in his stride, but it had been such a long time since he'd felt this immature; since he'd really been able to just let himself go. Severus Snape was certainly enjoying himself, and didn't intend to end the fun anytime soon. He may have had a miserable childhood, but he was certainly making up for it now. And as he dug his fingers once more into her ribs, the professor decided that, in fact, teasing Hermione would make an amusing and pleasurable past time.

That was until her flailing arms caught their target and made noisy contact with his face.

_CRUTHUMPCH!_

As her elbow connected with her jaw, he thought that he could actually hear the crack of bone...

His...

Wincing with a pain that made his eyes water uncontrollably, he immediately relinquished his grip on the thing that had caused him such agony. Not that it took Hermione long to notice that something was amiss; the impact had certainly bruised her elbow, if not fractured it. Holding her throbbing arm close to her body, she swiveled around to check on the damage the other party had sustained.

"Severus? Are you alright?"

There really was no need for the question. The Potions Master was a mess. His eyes were screwed up in pain; his right hand gripped his jaw as though it were about to fall off; his face was paler than usual; and there was a slow but steady trickle of blood dripping out of his mouth and into the water. Hermione gaped at the spectacle, morbidly fascinated by the drips of spreading crimson, blooming on the water.

His cry of pain brought her crashing back down to earth afresh, and, mentally shaking herself, she sprung into action.

"_Accio wand_!"

Grabbing the slender stick as it zoomed towards her, she let the words of healing flow over her tongue, and her well-practiced wand movements take over. She knew the spells, having cast them a dozen times or more on Harry, Ron and Ginny after Quidditch practice. Spells for mending, gluing, blocking, stitching... She reeled them off as if for yet another exam.

"_Anapneo_"

"_Episkey_"

"_Ferula"_

"_Tergeo_"

Having siphoned off all the excess blood, she used a silent charm to locate the ruptured area. To her immense relief, she found that it was only his tongue that was bleeding; he must have bitten it accidentally in shock when she had hit his chin. His jaw-bone was, however, broken in at least three places. It was this particular injury that was, no doubt, the main cause of his pain. Mending it as best she could, Hermione flicked her wand and watched as the linen bandages flew out of the tip, and wrapped themselves neatly over Snape's head, and around his chin.

After a quick examination of her own elbow (decidedly fractured, she thought), Hermione cast a couple of healing spells on it, and produced similar bandages, wrapping up the newly set and healed joint. The agony from only a few minutes earlier was now merely a dull ache. She couldn't speak for Snape, but was sure that his pain too was lessened - _at any rate,_ she thought,_ he doesn't look like he's going to topple over any time soon_.

"I am so sorry, Severus. I couldn't help it, honestly. In all fairness, it's probably you're own fault." He stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth still bandaged shut. "Well, really," she continued, "You were the one that threw me off the raft and then pounced on me for laughing at you. _You_ started it, not me!"

Rolling his eyes as if to say 'is this really the time for remonstration?', Snape held up his hands in supplication.

Smirking a little, Hermione realised how daft they must really look; standing naked in near cold bath-water, covered in bandages, and with only one of them able to talk. Still, she couldn't help but feel just a little sorry for Snape, and sighing, she stretched out her hand and took his.

"Look, I'm really sorry. Honest. Now, how about I try to make it up to you?" She looked up at him with those soft brown eyes, and his irritation instantly melted away.

Reaching on her tip-toes, she leant up to kiss his cheek.

"Is that any better?"

He shook his head, dolefully.

"How about this?" She leant up and kissed the tip of his nose, her warm lips tingling against his cooler skin.

Again, Snape shook his head, evidently playing it up for all it was worth.

"Or perhaps here?" She lifted her lips to his, so tantalisingly close that he could almost touch them.

But just as he was about to lean down and receive the kiss, she withdrew from him sharply.

"Oh no you don't," she winked at him saucily, "I'm the medi-witch for now, and I declare that you..."

She laid one finger across his lips.

"...Are nil by mouth!"

He could only watch helplessly as she summoned a towel for them both, and motioned for him to follow her out of the bath.

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**Hope that wasn't too short, but I figured that you'd want something up sooner rather than later. All reviews are welcome. Thanks for being patient! xxx**


	16. What Raging Fire Shall Flood The Soul?

**Still got lot of stuff going on family-wise, so please excuse the huge delay in writing this fic. Am also considering writing my first slash fic (Harry/Draco) for a friend; thanks for all your support and loyalty to this fic!**

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Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape rubbed his jaw tentatively with his left hand; he could still feel the strange spasms caused by cartilage and bone fusing together. It felt like tiny jolts of electricity occasionally surging under his skin. He winced suddenly as his thumb rubbed over a particularly sore patch under the bandages.

_Honestly_, he pondered to himself, _what must I look like? Miss Granger has undoubtedly turned me into a morbid replica of the late Pharaohs of Egypt. What have I done to deserve this?_

_Well, you did rudely awaken me with an early morning – I forget what time it actually is down here – dunking._ Snape looked up so sharply he felt his neck click. He had completely forgotten Hermione and their connection; now not even his thoughts were private if she chose to tune into them.

"I would appreciate _some_ privacy now and again, Miss Granger." The over-exertion in the bath-tub had left him somewhat drained and irritable; and his throbbing jaw did nothing to improve the Professor's temperament.

"Regained the ability to speak now, have you?" Hermione was having none of his snarky attitude; she, as any of her friends would tell you, was ready to fight fire with fire.

"Indeed; I seem to be recovering somewhat from your vicious and most unprovoked attack in the bath-tub, and would be grateful for you not popping into my mind every few seconds to check up on me." Snape was not going to back down easily.

"Well it's not my fault that we have this weird mental-connection." Hermione motioned with her hands to emphasise the point. "And if you are going to insult me, please have the decency to do so to my face," Crossing her arms, and squaring her jaw, she stared right back at him, eyes blazing.

Snape just glared back. "Look, _Miss_ Granger, I would like to think that my private thoughts-"

"_Don't you MISS GRANGER me, Severus – not after what we've done!_" She practically hissed the retort at him, as her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

Harry and Ron would have recognised this instantly as a danger sign, and backed off, but Severus was not so well acquainted or so wise. His first mistake was to answer her back. His second mistake was to reach out and grab her wrist. His third mistake was not to have his wand at the ready.

"I will call you what you like you lit-"

"_EXPELLIARMUS"_

**KAAADDDUMMPPPH!**

Snape had no time to react. The same spell that had nearly crippled him - when a third-year Hermione Granger had disarmed him in the Shrieking Shack, all those years ago - once again flung him backwards with such a force he was knocked off his feet. He hit the wall a few feet behind him, like a sack of potatoes, and lay quite still.

Hermione stood quite still for a moment, still breathing hard, eyes staring morbidly at the crumpled figure at the foot of the wall. Then as the truth sunk in, she reacted. For the second time in only four years, she took a gulp of air and yelped, "I attacked a teacher... I attacked a teacher...!"

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A few hours later found Hermione pacing nervously up and down the small room; one eye almost constantly fixed on the supine figure of Severus Snape on the bed. Having run a few medical checks on him, Hermione had asserted that his spine was not broken; nor in fact was any bone in his body – he could expect some bad bruising, but nothing more dramatic. She had cast a hovering charm on the Professor, and moved him onto the only bed. Every second reminded her irresistibly of just such an encounter in their third-year; only this time she couldn't blame her outburst on the need to save a wrongly accused criminal from worse-than-death.

As she continued her pacing, her mind wandered onto their argument. She didn't think that either of them was particularly in 'the right'. He _was_ entitled to his privacy, but there was no need to lash out at her for overhearing him through their connection. At the same time, she wasn't really in his good-books, having just broken his jaw and nose; but that was really no reason for him to insult her so. _I thought I did an alright job with those bandages,_ she thought huffily, _it's not like I'm a trained medi-witch, and I don't practice them too often anyway!_

She decided that it would probably be best to at least try and keep a lid on her temper in future. _I mean honestly, how difficult can it be? I would like to think that I have slightly more emotional control than Ronald does!_

"Oh I don't know about that _Hermione_," the silky voice from behind her put a lot of emphasis on her given name.

"WHAT?" Hermione spun around so fast it made her head spin.

Snape was sitting up on the bed, watching her, his fingers steepled, and head tilted to one side. "Well," he tilted his head to the other side, "I would say that you and Master Weasely have roughly the same amount of emotional control. And Master Potter isn't much better either."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She stayed rooted to the spot, gaping like a grindylow out of water.

"Aha, now who's speechless?" His eyes glittered gleefully, and there was a smirk plastered across his face. "Well, now that you are quiet, I believe you have some apologising to do."

Beckoning with one finger, he summoned Hermione over to where he lay. She stood a foot away from him, and looked him in the eye, as he gently ran one sinuous hand up her arm. Grasping her lightly on the elbow, he pulled her down until her lips were almost upon his. So close that she could feel the warmth of his breath tingle on her tongue, she heard him almost whisper: "I want some relief from the pain, Hermione."

She loved the way her name sounded on his lips, and automatically bent forward to receive it. She was therefore a little surprised when she suddenly found one of his fingers on her own lips, blocking her way. Nipping playfully at the digit, she tried to draw it into her mouth, assuming that he was playing some kind of game with her.

"Oh no you don't, Hermione - you've done enough damage there for one day." Snape motioned pointedly at the bandaged jaw and nose. "What I want you to do for me, is to rub my aches and pains away; put those skillful hands I see in my classes to some use."

She looked down at him in some confusion; was he asking her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her to manually relieve the tension down below? _Surely not?_ she thought, _surely even he wouldn't be that unsubtle or demanding._

He stared right back up at her, knowing exactly what he was doing. "You definitely have some apologising to do, having injured me now twice in a row. I have a lot of built up tension, and you my dear, are going to be the one to relieve me." Once again, he shot her that wicked grin.

Hermione gulped a little, but then shook herself into action. _After all_, she thought,_ it's not like I haven't already done that to him. It's just that I didn't expect him to be so forward about the whole thing. Or assume that that's the sort of person I am._

So throwing inhibitions to the wind, she stepped forwards slightly, and lowered her hand to his chest. Slowly, she ran it down that muscular, lean frame, skittering over his navel, and carrying on down. For his part, Snape watched interestedly, as her hand travelled down him. But just as she reached her destination, he lurched into action, snatching her hand away from his groin, and clasping it in his own.

Utterly bewildered, and taken aback by what she assumed was a change of heart, Hermione glanced back up at her Professor for further instructions, only to see that same snarky grin.

"Hermione, when I mentioned tension and relief, I believe you may have gotten the wrong end of the bowtruckle." His words were as delicate and silky as his honeyed voice. "All I was actually asking for was a back-massage; you have left me covered in bruises from your most recent assault."

Winking up at her, he quickly whipped off his shirt, and rolled over onto his front, exposing the battered and tender skin of his back to her.

Rolling her eyes, and slightly mortified by her mistake, Hermione continued to stand there speechless.

"Come on girl," his voice was muffled by the pillow, "I haven't got all day."

Smirking at the irony in his remark, Hermione submitted to his will, and knelt down to him, flexing her hands. _I'll give you a massage to remember, alright..._

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**Admittedly a short update, but it was pretty much this, or nothing! Will update properly soon as possible! xxx**


	17. The Games We've Played Till Now

**Glad you enjoyed that little yarn – here is the next installment:**

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Spread before Hermione Jane Granger was a situation she could never have envisaged, not in her wildest dreams. She took a moment to take stock of all that had happened, marvelling at the twists and turns of fate. She had become trapped in some time-bound room with her Potions Professor; there had been several... incidents...; several accidents; and now he lay before her, bare skin exposed to her willing hands once more. She shook her head and rolled her eyes – _how am I _ever_ going to explain this to the boys?_

An impatient sigh broke through her thoughts, and she returned to the situation in hand – or to be more precise, the _person_ in hand.

Looking down at the canvas of skin below her, Hermione drew a sharp breath. She was looking at Snape's back, _really_ looking, for the first time, and she was shocked by what she saw there. At a glance, there were a few noticeable bruises on the otherwise pale expanse of skin. However, it was only when she looked closer that she really saw the damage that sixteen years of Voldemort's service had caused. White scars were just about visible among the slightly darker shade of pale that was Snape's natural bleached pallor. They criss-crossed his back like the irrational scribblings of some tormented child, swirling around his shoulder blades, and between the ridges of his spine. One particularly nasty scar appeared to be a badly healed wound that had gouged a diagonal rip across his lower back, before disappearing under his arm. From her vague knowledge of human anatomy, Hermione knew that Snape had narrowly avoided losing at least one kidney from that encounter. A shiny white patch of damaged skin covered a large portion of his lower back, disappearing under the waistband of his trousers. _That must have been one hell of a spell, to burn someone like that_, Hermione stared in horrified wonder. There was barely a patch of soft, unhealed skin left; she could almost feel the tears welling up in her eyes – how could one man be allowed to suffer so much for so many?

She leant forward and let her finger brush against the deep welts of scar tissue; feeling their texture with her fingertip. She was not in the least repulsed by his appearance, being rather of the opinion that it was a mark of his loyalty and bravery - a badge of honour. Yet few would ever see how he had suffered. _Am I the only one he's ever shown this to?_ She pondered this sad thought, and decided, on reflection, that she probably was. Severus Snape was not one to boast of his war-wounds, and she doubted that anyone else had seen him topless in a long time, if ever at all. As he had said, Lily Evans was the only one who had ever got close to something so intimate. The other women... well, Lord Voldemort would have made sure it was physical and debasing; there would have been no time for foreplay.

Earlier in the bath-tub she had certainly felt the tortured skin of his back, but that was during a far too passionate moment. She had not really taken it in; not realised the true extent of his injuries. Now, however, she did have the time – thanks to the time-trap, she had as much of that precious commodity as she desired. And Hermione Granger was going to make sure she made the most of this rare intimacy.

She began by examining each scar and burn, one by one, tracing the torn and tormented skin with one cool fingertip. They felt a little hot to the touch, as though underneath the skin was still burning. _I suppose that magical wounds may have after-effects not experienced by normal physical trauma,_ Hermione thought. She supposed that there was still a lot left to learn about the differences between muggle and wizarding medicine, despite the number of books she had read on the subject.

Hearing a grumbling murmur from below her, the girl quickly switched her attention to the job in hand. Once again tracing the ridged edges of the longest scar, she slid one hand over the top of Snape's left shoulder. She felt his skin contract under hers, and realised how cold her hands must be. After blowing on her hands and rubbing her palms together, Hermione slid her fingers back up to his shoulders. She didn't need a wand to tell her that Snape was definitely wound up about something; his shoulder muscles were like granite – hard and unmoving. _He needs loosening up alright_, she decided, and swiftly went to work with her clever hands.

Rubbing in circular motions on and along his shoulder blades, Hermione allowed the Professor to relax and warm to her touch. As she felt some of the tension ease away, she tried a more aggressive technique. Using her thumbs, she kneaded the flesh beneath her hands, moulding it as though she were preparing a dragon's liver in Potions class. Finding a knot of tense muscle, she worked it against her palm with thumb and forefinger, and was satisfied when Snape gave out a little groan.

Moving a little further south, she rubbed and pressed at each knotted muscle, moving slowly down his spine. Sliding her hands around his sides a little, she stroked the skin there, giving it some of her warmth, and encouraging the blood to flow back there. Then, using the heel of her palms, she pressed the skin back up the body, as though she were kneading dough rolling it out flat. The occasional groan from her patient encouraged her to greater heights, and she pressed down still harder on his sides, using all her body-weight to force the skin and muscles into submission.

"Mmmmppppgggghhhhfffff"

Letting out a longer and louder groan of appreciation, Snape shivered a little in the delicious sense of pleasure. Hermione grinned a little to herself as she worked; _so, he likes what he's feeling then? I think it's time to give him something to_ really_ moan about..._

Spreading her fingers and palms flat once more, she edged just a little further south, allowing one hand to massage the area around the coccyx. Now and again, she would allow at first one finger, then one hand to slip around and beneath the waistband of his trousers. However, she always kept the contact brief, never allowing him to get too used to the situation. Once she was satisfied that his intermittent groans were not too suspicious, she took her plan a step further. Quickly she dipped one hand around his side, and rubbed a little at his stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight fluffy feel to the skin that lead below the belt.

"Mmmmm"

He murmured again, and Hermione continued with her efforts, every dip of her hands bringing her nearer to his groin. She grinned and bit on her tongue to stop herself laughing as she felt him shiver at another of her near encounters. She couldn't resist the temptation, and shifting position, she moved in for the next phase of her plan. As she once again slipped her hands to slide over his lower abdomen, she bent down to his neck, and blew gently on the back of it. Snape gasped, and she noticed his hands gripping the bed sheets with a furious intensity; she grinned again, realising her plan was working. Once again she withdrew her teasing hands, and went back to the kneading and squeezing of his back and muscles. After a minute or two, she reverted to attack-mode, and dove for his sides again, daring her fingers to move just that little bit closer to his belt buckle, and what lay beneath it. At the same time, she bent her mouth to his ear and with an erotic air, blew on and nipped at his earlobe. Whatever reactions she had obtained earlier were nothing compared to this.

Snape seemed to explode beneath her.

She heard almighty groan and felt herself suddenly caught in a vice-like grip and was forcibly tumbled through the air. Shrieking, she closed her eyes, and waited for whatever had happened to subside. She could feel something soft beneath her head, and a strange draft from above, coupled with a strange weight that settled on her chest. Opening her eyes she found that the situation had gone somewhat topsy-turvy. She now lay on her back on the previously occupied bed, with the newly sprung body of the Potions Master leaning over her. Rather than the relaxed state she had imagined him to be in, she could see that every muscle and sinew in him was tensed and ready to pounce. His eyes were aflame with desire, and she could feel the physical proof of that as it manifested itself against her inner thigh. His breath came in heavy pants against her cheek, and her wrists were held to her sides by his dominant hands. _What have I done?_ she thought madly, _I've created a-_

But just what it was she had created, she never had time to define. His lips crashed down upon hers, and for the moment, she knew nothing more than his mouth, his tongue, and just how good they felt on her own.

He drew away just long enough to expel a few sentences of garbled speech.

"Told you... to ease tension... not create. You'll... pay... Miss... Granger... I'll show... you... relief..."

Hermione's squeak of mingled excitement and fear was swallowed as he once more sealed his lips to hers. She could only lie back and hope for the best... whatever that might be...

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**Reviews are, as always, much appreciated. Hope this ups the pace a little – there may even be a slight hint of citrus in the air. Could that be a lemon?**

**R & R**

**xxx**


	18. The Point Of No Return

**Nice reviews! Sorry for late update – Christmas got in the way a little! ****Also posted first chapter of my first slash fic too! Check it out. **

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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With a flick of his wand and a casual word, Snape cast the lights down to an intimate glow, the candles flickering softly in their lamps. Another muttered word and a swish, and the furniture beneath them extended to create a Wizard-Sized bed. Cocooned among the softest of sheets and pillows, Hermione noticed neither of these changes, being far too distracted by the hot-blooded man straddling her.

Having set the scene a little, the Potions Master decided that enough was enough, and that it was most definitely time to get down to business. The girl beneath him was almost completely under his spell, and like a young foal chafing at the bit, she was raring to go. He could feel her hands on him; under him; over him; clasping and grasping at his sides and buttocks.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he saw her instantly reach up for him, like a calf searching for a teat. However, Snape decided that he wanted to try a different technique, so, forgoing her mouth, he instead lowered his lips to her forehead. Hermione gasped as she felt the change in his demeanour; somehow it was both lustfully passionate and sweet. Snape had decided that recently, too much of this relationship had been consumed by lust; neither of them seemed to think straight for long enough to really know what they were doing, or why.

_Is that what this is then, Severus? A relationship?_ The thought made him stop in surprise. He had never really dared to put a name to it before, but all of a sudden, it seemed somehow right. He allowed himself a happy moment of acceptance and a small smile, before turning back to Hermione. _Yes_, he said to himself, _I want to make this something to remember. This time we'll take it slowly._

He bent down to her forehead again, and pressed his lips against the warm skin. However, he drew away after only a few seconds, frowning. The gentle pace at which he wished to proceed had obviously not communicated itself to Hermione, whose insistent hands were currently involved in pushing his pelvis as close as humanly possible to hers. Snape decided that this movement might considerably hinder his plans to 'take it slow', so he decided that something must be done to restrain her. Once more brandishing his wand, he muttered "_Catenas_", and instantly, silken cords flew from the glowing tip, binding the girl's hands to the head rest behind her.

Finally, in almost full control of the situation, Snape bent down to Hermione and laid a third gentle kiss on her forehead. He felt her shiver beneath him as he moved his way slowly and tenderly across her face.

He kissed both temples slowly, nudging at her hair with his nose; taking in the scent of hibiscus and coconut that hovered around those soft curls. Leaning his forehead lightly against her cheek, he lovingly nipped at her earlobe, and softly latched onto the patch of skin just below it. Unlike the few times he had tried this before, she did not moan wildly at his attempts, but instead he heard her sigh, and yet that sigh was so much more fulfilling than anything he had heard from her before. It sounded breathy and lustful, and yet also trusting and loving, with just a hint of anticipation in it; it was music to Snape's ears.

Continuing his journey south, the Potions Master allowed his lips to settle on the tremulous skin of Hermione's neck, attempting to catch the butterfly-movements that sent it a-shiver. He moved his lips lightly across the surface, trying to encompass it all in one sweep; that skin so tender and pale and soft beneath his.

Hermione was quite content to allow him to continue his explorations; already her pleasure-centres seemed fit to burst. Just the feel of his lips on hers was so erotic, that one touch bringing so much sweetness. She did so long to return the favour, to show him how good it felt, but she figured that she would get the chance later. For now, all she had to do was relax and enjoy the sensations.

She was just thinking this, when Snape decided to head even further south, and she felt his tongue beneath the valley of her breasts. She had no idea where her top or bra had gone, she hadn't even felt the spell; she had been concentrating all her energy on just staying sane under the ministrations of _that_ mouth. All that she knew now was the feel of him on top of her, and his mouth on her skin, along with the curious coolness left in his tongue's path.

Snape could now feel the _thump-da-thump_ of her heart beating wildly in her chest; the vibrations could be felt as his lips hovered over her skin, and made the tip of his nose tingle. Once again laying his tongue to her skin, he traversed the sloping incline of her left breast and over the rose-bud at its peak. He felt it already raised up and waiting as he lightly swirled his tongue around the tip. Hermione quivered beneath him at this movement and let a shuddering moan escape her own lips. This moan soon turned into a squeak of pleasure, as Snape split his attentions, and ran one thumb over the proud peak of the right breast. Before she could get too used to this however, he had upped the ante again, by latching his lips onto her left teat and suckling it into his hungry mouth.

This action sent Hermione into spasms of delighted squeals and she writhed beneath him. Only his arms and body prevented her from rolling right off the bed, and the cords kept her hands very much in place. She desperately wanted to touch him, just as he touched her, but was completely restrained. She knew that the magical bonds were too strong to fight, and that her only chance lay with her mobile lower body. So the only physical response she could make was to buck and grind her hips against his pelvis. Snape's response was to immediately raise his lower body out of reach, allowing him to continue unhindered.

"Why won't you-"

Snape bit down gently on her right nipple gently, cutting Hermione off in full flow.

"-Let me-"

She was interrupted again as he sucked hard on the tip, simultaneously swirling his tongue across the pink tip.

"-_mmmmmghhppppp_... – touch you?"

Eventually, the girl managed to pant the rest of her question, between moans, and looked down into those coal-black eyes.

"I don't want to scare you." He said simply, and looked back at her.

Hermione was a bit taken aback by this. Hadn't she already felt the physical evidence of his desire before? Admittedly, not under such pointed circumstances as these, but still... _I mean, it's not as if it's abnormal. I know perfectly well that it's a normal reaction and that it's most probably a compliment – he does find me attractive after all._

"You don't. I've felt it before, and it's fine with me. No big problem"

"Ah, that would be the crux of the situation, Hermione. It is a _big_ problem... if you get my drift..." And he winked at her.

Blinking, Hermione tried to get her head around the implication of his words, and the fact that Professor Snape, dungeon-bat and sour-tempered House Master had just winked at her.

"You mean..."

"Yes, Hermione, I am in possession of a rather large...asset..."

The young Gryffindor sniggered at his vocabulary.

"Asset? This isn't a legally binding contract you know!"

"Well-" he stuttered at little.

"Anyway, I've already seen it, touched it even, so I don't think there's too much of a 'fear factor' in it really," she reasoned.

"Yes, but you see," he gritted his teeth a little, unsure how to phrase it. "The only time you have really felt me before was under completely different circumstances. Last time, I was not nearly as prepared, and we were also in the bath at the time."

"Well what difference does that make?" Hermione snorted, slightly curious now.

"Well... errr... water does have the tendency to make things... _shrivel_... a little..." he muttered.

Gulping down the laughter that threatened to burst out, Hermione settled for an interested and questioning look.

"Which means that the end result this time is most probably a deal larger," Snape continued, "That is to say that, I am much bigger now then I was before."

"Ah," Hermione understood what he was getting at, and quickly shut her mouth. She did have further questions, but decided that now was not the time to be getting into a technical discussion on the subject. For once, there was something far more valuable than knowledge at stake.

Making her decision, she looked him straight in the eyes and spoke without blinking.

"I want you Severus Snape."

He looked startled.

"But – but you-"

"I don't care. I am sure." She kept her eyes fixed on his as she spoke, really meaning the words. "I want you. I need you. Here and now."

He nodded again, and glanced down at their bodies.

"Non-verbal magic again, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, grinning slightly sheepishly and glanced at the pile of clothes that lay to one side. They were laying together on a bed, very much naked, and very much on the edge of a whole new chapter of their lives.

"We are past the point of no return; no backwards glances?"

"None, Severus. The games we've played till now are at an end."

For a few seconds he seemed to think, as he gazed back at her, as though willing himself to make a decision. Then, having reached a conclusion, he nodded slightly.

"Here and now, Hermione."

And with that, he thrust forwards into her.

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**Mwahah – I am evil, aren't I? Let me know what you think of the much anticipated lemon – more to come... if you know what I mean... :P**

**R & R as always! xxx**


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